A Rose in Winter
by Hot elf
Summary: When Rosalyn Cousland spares his life after the Landsmeet, no one is more surprised than Loghain himself. But then he realizes he has been offered a second chance to find peace.
1. Feastday Gifts

_This was written for the CMDA Secret Santa fic exchange 2012, as a present for Persephone Chiara. Since I know how much she loves Loghain, I thought a little fluffiness was in order. Enjoy! Originally I went for Satinalia as the Xmas equivalent of Thedas, but I've read a number of very convincing discussions since then, so I changed it to First Day.  
_

_And since I really enjoyed writing it, there will be a second chapter soon (and maybe more).  
_

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Feastday Gifts**

Loghain was slowly making his way through the snow drifts covering most of the Keep's backyard. He had spent the last two hours at the Mabari kennel, making sure the dogs were well-fed and groomed and didn't get too restless. Mabari were considerably more intelligent than the average dog, but they appreciated human company just as much. And he was glad to get away from the others at times, to be alone with his thoughts.

It was only five days until First Day, and for once the weather fit the season. Loghain had to admit the thin layer of snow lent a certain charm even to the forbidding walls and buttresses of Vigil's Keep. Inside, it was warm and comfortable, almost cosy. Under Mistress Woolsey's direction, the servants had put up holly wreaths and garlands, and the usual tallow lights had been replaced by real beeswax candles that gave off a soft, steady glow as well as a lovely scent of honey.

For the first time in years, he was actually looking forward to the festival. In the past he had been too busy to notice what time of the year it was, or too cynical to bother with it. Or both. This year, surrounded by his fellow Wardens, and in the company of the woman he loved, it was different. This year, he was in a serene and peaceful mood.

At least until the snowball hit him square in the face. Icy crystals got stuck in his eyes and made him blink, even as a second projectile hit him and cold water started to trickle down his neck.

"Rose!" The pert little giggle was unmistakable, and so was the pretty face peeking out from behind a wall of snow to his right, blue eyes flashing with mischief.

Rosalyn Cousland. The daughter of Bryce Cousland, who'd been his most loyal comrade-in-arms and his fiercest rival. Young, blond, full of fun and laughter, with a knack for making friends. The beloved scion of a noble family so grand they didn't have to bow to anyone save the monarch. So beautiful that under normal circumstances she would have had her pick amongst dozens of rich and aristocratic suitors, indulged by her doting father.

But these were anything but normal circumstances. Which was why Rosalyn had become the Commander of the Grey Wardens instead, the Hero of Ferelden, the Slayer of the Archdemon. Despite her beauty, she was anything but a blushing flower, as Nathaniel Howe had quickly learned when he had challenged her to a duel. Rosalyn was a vicious fighter with her two daggers, as well as one of the few people who could best Loghain with a bow. She was fierce, deadly and determined, and she hardly batted an eye in the face of the monstrosities they were dealing with on a daily basis. Blessed with a clear head for strategy and the instincts inherited from several generations of able generals, she knew exactly how to deploy her small contingent of Wardens to best advantage.

Rose. The woman he loved.

He hadn't even dared to hope she would spare his life after the Landsmeet. Sure, he had known her since she was a little girl, and he remembered her adoring glances at him whenever he came to see her father. But fate and political intrigue had placed them on opposite sides of the civil war's battlefield. He had been forced to side with Rendon Howe, the murderer of her family, usurper of their ancestral home. And she had become a Warden, part of an Order he had distrusted ever since they had made off with Maric and risked his best friend's life and the stability of the kingdom for one of their hare-brained schemes.

This time, though, he had been wrong, much as it pained him to admit it. He had underestimated the darkspawn threat until it was almost too late. And for that alone he would have deserved to die, in his own estimation. But she had pardoned him, forgiven all his errors and sins, and made him a Warden too, giving him a chance to redeem himself. Together they had vanquished the Archdemon, overcome the Blight. His daughter was still queen, even if she had to share the throne with Maric's half-witted bastard son. And to his immense relief Rosalyn had overruled the First Warden's orders to send Loghain to Orlais and taken him with her to her new post instead, claiming she needed his help.

A third well-placed icy projectile tore him out of his musings. Cursing silently he grabbed some snow and took aim, but she was too well fortified behind her snow drift. Loghain smiled grimly. Obviously she felt safe back there. _Her overconfidence will be her downfall. _This wasn't the first fortress he'd stormed.

Quickly he pelted her with a slew of snow balls, none of them aimed with particular precision. All he needed to do was make her seek cover so she couldn't see him advance. Two, three wide strides took him right next to the wall. Giving her no time to react, he was reaching over it with his long arm and grabbing her by the scruff of her neck. She squealed like a rabbit when he pulled her up. She was so slim and willowy he hardly felt her weight.

"Impudent brat!" Dropping her into a snow drift he proceeded to rub her face with snow until she cried for mercy.

"Loghain MacTir! You're not playing fair!" she sputtered, as soon as he let go. Her right foot shot out, trying to trip him up, but he had expected the move and evaded her easily. _I know you by now._

"No. I play to win." Grinning at her protests, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her inside, through the back door.

"Loghain!" She was batting his broad back ineffectually with her small fists, but he ignored her and made his way up the stairs, avoiding the great hall.

"Be quiet! You don't want your Wardens to see their Commander like this, do you?" His gruff tone didn't quite succeed in hiding his amusement. "Though you're lucky, it seems. Where is everyone?"

She was giggling again by the time they were approaching her room. "Nathaniel took off with Velanna to explain about mistletoes. She seemed really eager for a lesson." Loghain rolled his eyes. "And Anders invited the dwarves up to his room for a game of Wicked Grace. I bet they're down to their last shirt by now. I was bored, so I went looking for you."

Pushing open her door, Loghain manoeuvred her through and kicked it shut behind them. "And found me. Now, will you behave if I let you down?"

He put her back on her feet and shrugged off his warm fur coat, but kept her in a firm grip. Her long, silky hair had come undone, and she looked mussed and rosy from the cold. She was lovely. But there was a deep frown on her face.

"I'm not a child, Loghain!" The pout made her full red lips even more delicious, and he felt a rush of heat at the sight of her.

"No, you're not. Most certainly not." Maker, she looked positively edible! Unable to resist her, he pulled her into a long, passionate kiss. "Rose!"

Rosalyn moaned and melted into his embrace. He kissed her deeply, losing himself in her sweet taste, the scent of her hair, the softness of her cheeks. Holding her flush against him, he could feel every shiver, every tremble running through her, and he knew she could feel his arousal as well. Loghain let go of her just long enough to throw off his pants and shirt before he lifted her into his arms again and carried her over to the bed. Her own clothes came off just as fast. He laid her down on the soft linen sheets and feasted his eyes on her.

She was so beautiful, with her pearly white skin, her nipples like tiny pink petals, her long golden tresses. His Rose. The first time they had made love, he had been painstakingly careful, as if she was indeed as fragile as a flower, hardly daring to touch her lest he break her. He had learned in the meantime she was a lot more robust than she looked, but there was still a kind of reverence in the way he touched her, as if he was in permanent awe of her beauty.

He would never fully understand why she let him have her, why she wanted him, a man so much older than her, a man who had wronged her in so many ways. But when he looked into her eyes all he could see was sincere love and admiration. And the shivers racing along her delicate frame left him in no doubt about her desire for him. What had he done to deserve this happiness after all the things he'd messed up, all the horrors he'd been through? Why would she choose to love him, when she could have so many others?

Loghain didn't know, but he was determined to make sure she wouldn't regret it. He took his time caressing her, making her tremble and pant until she begged him to take her. When their bodies finally joined, she was impatient, pulling him deeper inside her, her nails scratching his back in her eagerness to feel him, to be as close to him as she could possibly be. It hardly left him room to move, but his soft, slow strokes made her whimper with delight as she pressed herself ever closer to his body.

"Loghain." The urgency in her voice, the silent entreaty in her eyes made him come utterly undone. Pushing himself up above her on his strong arms, he let go, no longer holding back, until, with a final shuddering groan, he collapsed on top of her, feeling her join him in ecstasy, revelling in her small, helpless sighs.

When he opened his eyes again, she was looking at him, her gaze full of tenderness and affection. "Loghain. I love you."

His lips formed the answer, even though he couldn't utter a sound, and her face lit up brightly, like a flower opening up to the sun. For a moment his throat felt too tight to breathe, his heart constricted almost painfully, and he sent a silent thank you to the Maker for this unexpected gift near the winter of his life.

His perfect Rose.

* * *

_As usual, I couldn't have done this without zevgirl's help and advice. Thank you so much, my dear!_


	2. Regrets

**Chapter 2 - Regrets**

Loghain woke to find Rose nestled in his arms, long strands of her golden hair tangled into his fingers. She yawned and looked up at him, a smile on her face.

"Morning, love." Blue eyes gazed at him, so full of love and tenderness he swallowed.

"Rose." He kissed her, softly, almost reverently. His fingers traced her features, admiring her perfect rosy-white skin. _So beautiful. So young. _"Did you sleep well?"

She smiled. "I always do when you stay for the night. I wish I could wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives."

He sighed. "Oh, Rose. You..." He turned away, a scowl on his face. "Why, Rose? Why me?"

Rose shrugged. "It's always been you. Remember the night of the ball, when I turned sixteen?"

Loghain shivered. Of course he did. Though it hadn't seemed special at the time, the memory of that night was clear as glass in his mind.

* * *

The grand hall at Highever was festively decorated and filled with people. Every family of rank in Ferelden had sent at least one representative to the ball Teyrn Cousland was giving for his only daughter's naming day. A Teyrn's daughter reaching marriageable age was a major event for the nobility. Of course few of them could hope for such an advantageous match for their sons, but they were all curious. And of course no one would pass up the chance to join such a marvellous celebration. The Couslands had outdone themselves. Orlesian bards were playing their instruments in the minstrels' gallery, jugglers from Antiva and dancers from Rivain were entertaining the guests and the tables were laden with delicacies from all over Thedas.

Loghain noticed Fergus Cousland standing near the window, surrounded by his friends and some of the younger noblemen from the Bannorn, discussing the morning's hunt. They were laughing and talking noisily, recalling how Thomas Howe had taken down a particularly fine deer with his bow.

"You Howes are some of the finest archers in Ferelden, that's for sure!" Fergus was grinning affectionately at his friend when the musicians played a small fanfare, the doors at the farther end of the hall opening to admit the guest of honour. "Ah, here she comes. My little sister. What do you think, Tom, will she be wearing her hunting leathers?"

They turned toward the door. Fergus had a smirk on his face, no doubt ready to tease his sister about having to dress up for the occasion. Rosalyn was known as a tomboy, a wild girl, with little interest in dresses and fashion. But when she walked in, a hush fell over the room. Glancing over at the young men, Loghain saw the rapt expression on Thomas Howe's face. Fergus had noticed it too and was trying hard to stifle a grin.

Rosalyn was wearing a light blue dress which brought out the colour of her eyes and she had placed her gloved hand daintily on her father's arm. Her long, blond hair was gathered up in a perfect chignon, and her cheeks were rosy, despite her mother's refusal to let her wear make-up. The dress was simply cut, yet it clung to her slim body in a way that made several of the young men swallow hard. She was holding her head up high, every inch a Cousland, and when she smiled, Loghain held his breath. Bryce' little girl had grown up.

"Excuse me for a moment, Fergus." Thomas' voice sounded hoarse. Tossing back a lock of thick, black hair, he made his way over to the other side of the room, his gaze never leaving Rosalyn.

Fergus shook his head and chuckled. "Maker, Tom. Who would have thought I'd ever see you struck like a mooncalf?"

Loghain sighed. This was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

"Rose. Dance with me." Rosalyn looked up to see Thomas Howe stand right in front of her, his grey eyes fixed on her face with an intensity she'd never seen there.

She raised an eyebrow. She'd known Thomas for all her life, and up until now he'd been just as merciless in his teasing as Fergus. "Where are your manners, serah?" Looking up at him from under her long lashes, she let her lips curve up into a tiny smile and was surprised and flattered to hear his breath hitch.

Without hesitation, he swept her a deep bow, throwing her another intense look. "My lady Rose. Please grant me the honour of the first dance with you."

Rosalyn blushed. "It will be a pleasure."

Taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor.

* * *

Loghain had joined the older men for a drink. Teyrn Bryce Cousland looked content with the way the evening was progressing. Guests kept complimenting him on the food, the decorations, and most of all on his charming young daughter. It was obvious he was immensely proud of Rosalyn.

"Just look at her, my friends. Her mother was so worried about her. But I've always known she'd come through at the right moment. Rose is a Cousland through and through. It would never occur to her to embarrass us on such an occasion." Bryce raised his glass and smiled. "To Rosalyn. My beautiful daughter."

"It seems we should have a talk about our children's future." Arl Rendon Howe was toasting him with a smile, motioning over to the window seat where Rosalyn was enthroned, surrounded by admirers. Thomas was kneeling at her feet, talking to her earnestly, and just now was raising her hand to his lips, pressing a fierce kiss on her palm.

Bryce chuckled indulgently. "Don't you think that's a little premature, Rendon? She's barely turned sixteen. There's plenty of time to consider her future."

Loghain raised an eyebrow at his words. "I don't know, Bryce. With all the attention your pretty little flower is getting tonight, it might be wise to marry her off as soon as possible."

Just then, Rosalyn firmly withdrew her hand from Thomas, giving him a playful slap with her fan. He blushed and shook his head, obviously apologizing for his eagerness.

Bryce grinned. "Don't worry, Loghain. Rose can handle a few lovestruck boys."

But Loghain shook his head. "It's not just the boys, Bryce."

Following his gaze, the Teyrn frowned. It was true. Every man's eyes were fixed on Rosalyn. Bann Teagan was practically devouring her with his gaze. But the real meaning of Loghain's words sunk in a moment later, when a tall blond man made his way over to Rosalyn, a determined expression on his face.

"Cailan!" Bryce blanched. "But surely he wouldn't..."

"Don't be too sure." Loghain grunted. He knew his son-in-law better than most, and he recognized the predatory look on the young man's face. Anora had seen it too, he realized. His daughter's face was pale and drawn as she watched her husband walk up to Rosalyn and offer her his arm for a dance.

At first Rosalyn was visibly flattered by the King's attention. Cailan was an attractive man and could be charming, and he was an excellent dancer. Loghain watched as he swept her across the dance floor, smiling, talking, holding on to her small waist with a firm, sure grip. Then Cailan leaned closer to whisper something in her ear and Rosalyn flushed deeply, her lips pressed together in a thin line of shocked disapproval. When the King let go of her at the end of the dance, Loghain breathed a sigh of relief.

But it wasn't over. About an hour later, he was on his way over to the buffet for another glass of Nevarran red when he saw Cailan grab Rosalyn's hand and lead her out through the door to the terrace. The King's face was flushed with wine and excitement, and his grip on her wrist was firm. Cursing, Loghain pushed aside a gaggle of drunken revellers to follow them out.

When he arrived on the terrace, Cailan had the girl pinned against the balustrade, his lips hot on her naked shoulders, his hand cupping a perfect breast through her dress. Rosalyn was protesting quietly, but it was obvious she didn't dare make a scene.

"Cailan!" Loghain didn't bother to keep the icy contempt out of his voice. "You are needed inside. Arl Eamon wishes to talk to you."

The Arl had said no such thing. He was far too busy dancing with his pretty young wife. But Loghain was damned if he was going to stand by while Cailan dishonoured Anora again.

"Loghain." Cailan's speech was slurred, but at least he had the decency to step back and take his hands off the girl. "Old spoilsport. I should have known you'd turn up to ruin my fun." With a laugh, the King turned and disappeared inside.

Loghain walked over to Rosalyn. She was shaking, but she looked at him with a firm, clear gaze. "Thank you, your Grace."

"Loghain." He corrected her automatically. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "I... I will be fine in a moment."

With a sigh, he indicated her hair, which Cailan had mussed up with his drunken caresses. "Let me help you."

Carefully he pinned the long, blond strands back up and straightened out the neckline of her dress. She was shivering under his touch, and he firmly fought back the feelings assailing him at the sight of her long graceful neck. Her skin was so soft, so silky...

Clearing his throat, he stepped back. "Are you ready to go back in?"

She raised her eyes to him and looked him straight in the eye, a curious expression on her face. Then she nodded, and they went back inside.

* * *

"You could have had me right there, you know." Rosalyn pulled Loghain in for another long, deep kiss. "I was more than ready for you to take me, out there, in the gardens."

He moaned, his hands clenching in the sheets. "Stop it, Rose. You make me feel like a dirty old man. You were a kid of sixteen back then."

Rosalyn laughed. "Yes. Which means I'd already been dreaming of you for more than two years. Every night, when I was touching myself."

"Rose!" His voice sounded strangled.

"It's true!" With a giddy laugh, she pushed him over and straddled him. "I was dreaming of you, your eyes, your hair, your body." Her small hands were dancing over his chest. "You were my hero, Loghain, the only one I wanted."

Slowly, she slid down his body, her lips hot on his skin. "Admit it, Loghain. You wanted me too, back then." She cut off his protests, her tongue flicking against his stomach. "Oh, I know you were far too honourable to do anything about it. But you can be honest with me now." Her mouth closed around him and he gasped helplessly, twisting his fingers into her hair.

"You desired me, didn't you? Wanted to kiss me, touch me..." She slid up again and positioned herself on top of him, grinding herself against him. "Wanted to be my first." She pushed herself down on him, taking him all in, and for a moment Loghain saw stars. "Well, isn't it true?"

It was almost too much. Her heat, her whispered words... With a low groan, he bucked up against her and flipped her over, driving her body hard into the mattress. "Rose!"

"Is it true?" Her face was so full of wanton abandon he shuddered all over.

"You know it is." His hips began to move, snapping hard against her, drawing little cries of lust from her. "I wanted you, just like every other man in the room that night. I wanted to take you away from Cailan's pawing hands. And then I wanted to hold you, to kiss you and caress you, to show you how good this... would feel." Reaching between their bodies, he touched her, stroked her, and she was screaming helplessly at him, her body arching up high.

"Loghain!" He felt her clench around him, then relax, and every last shred of restraint left him. Pulling her legs around his waist, he pounded inside her in earnest now, taking her, making her all his. Her eyes never left his face as he lost himself to the moment, abandoning all pretence and control until he finally shattered deep inside her, spilling himself into her, powerless in the face of the ecstasy overtaking him.

"Rose." When he was able to speak again, he pulled her closer, hiding his face against her neck. "I wish... oh Rose, I wish things were different. I wish I had been younger then, I wish I could have courted you, made you my wife, given you children. I wish-"

"Shhh, Loghain." She put a finger on his lips to silence him. "No regrets. Not when you're here with me, in my bed, inside me." He almost blushed, and she smiled. "This is what we've got. And it's enough for me. I love you, Loghain. And I need you. Please don't let go of me."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Rose, you are... I won't. Never."

* * *

_Many thanks to zevgirl!_


	3. A Grand Match

**Chapter 3 - A Grand Match**

When Loghain came to the Keep's throne room a few nights later, looking for some company, Anders and Nathaniel were playing cards with the dwarves at the big old oaken table. He sat down next to them, watching the game. It was a cozy setting, with a roaring fire in the old stone fireplace, the candles on the table burning low, and the mingled smells of burning applewood and ale filling the air. They were well into their fourth round when Velanna appeared at Nathaniel's back, leaning in to whisper something in his ear that made him smile.

He looked up at her affectionately. "I'll be up in a moment. The game is nearly finished. Loghain, can you take over for me?"

Loghain nodded. Velanna gave Nathaniel's shoulder a quick squeeze and was gone.

Anders sighed deeply. "That woman. How on Thedas did you do it, Nate? No matter how hard I tried she wouldn't look at me twice. And you're just as much of a _shem_ as I am. Even hairier."

The rogue smiled quietly. "I guess I'm just irresistible, Anders. Deal with it."

Anders grunted. "I blame the bow, personally. You archers have an unfair advantage."

Nathaniel couldn't suppress a snort. "Oh, really? How so?"

Anders grinned, his good mood restored now that he had a captive audience. "Just look at all our fair ladies and the expressions on their faces when you pull that string. There's just something about a bow and arrows that makes them…amenable. Wouldn't you agree, Loghain? I believe you were the best archer of your generation. I'm sure the ladies appreciated your skills as well, back then."

Loghain threw him a dark look. The mage's flippancy grated on his nerves. "Those were hard times. We had more important things to think about." Though, come to think of it, Celia used to love to come and watch him practice, back before they had gotten married...

The next morning he had almost forgotten about their conversation. But it immediately came back to mind when he arrived at the archery range for his usual hour of practice with Rosalyn and Nathaniel. He was a little later than usual, Mistress Woolsey having delayed him with a long list of questions about supplies and storage.

When he turned the corner he instinctively stepped back to watch the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. Nathaniel was in the middle of showing Rosalyn how to handle his family longbow. She had long pestered him to let her have a go at trying out the beautiful old heartwood weapon, and it seemed she had finally gotten her way. Nathaniel was standing close behind her to correct her stance and grip. With one hand he gently pushed up her left arm, while the other one rested lightly on her hips. His face was stern and focused until Rosalyn said something that made him grin. When he answered she threw her head back and laughed at him, her face radiant with happiness.

Loghain flinched involuntarily. They made a stunningly handsome couple like this, he tall and dark and broad-shouldered, she blond and petite, both of them in their fine leathers, bow in hand. It hit him like a fist how well they suited each other. _A man from a noble family, her own age, a man she could have married, had it not been for the Blight._ He recalled that Rosalyn used to be courted by Nathaniel's younger brother Thomas before the attack on Highever, and he couldn't help but wonder. Had she loved the younger Howe? What exactly had been going on between them? And how much of Thomas did she see in Nathaniel?

He sighed, realizing he had been standing there brooding for far too long. Shaking off the dark thoughts, he stepped out and greeted them. They both smiled at him unselfconsciously, and he told himself he was seeing ghosts. It was obvious they were nothing but good friends. Yet the questions wouldn't leave him, all during a long and busy day.

* * *

Rosalyn was glad to see Loghain appear on her doorstep that night. He hadn't come to her room for several nights and she had missed him, but she had been unwilling to pester him. She knew that, as much as he loved her, he had lived alone for a long time. He valued his freedom and he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being tied down.

Now, however, he was here, and he didn't waste any time. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with abandon, dragging her over to the bed. His hands were rough on her body, and he was nowhere near as gentle as usual, taking her with a fierce, possessive greed that both excited and worried her.

He relaxed a little afterwards, lying back on the bed with a sigh and pulling her into his arms. "Rose. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I enjoyed it." Ignoring his disbelieving huff, she kissed him softly on the cheek. "But what's wrong? What made you so angry, love?"

For the longest time it seemed as if he wouldn't answer, staring into space, playing with her hair. When he finally spoke, he sounded gruff, and she realized he was embarrassed.

"I guess I was jealous. You and Nate, this morning, you looked so...good together. So sweet and happy and-"

"Nate and I?" Her tone was incredulous. "What do you mean? He's with Velanna. They are obviously happy together. Why would he even look at me?"

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "He's a Howe, Rose, and the Howes have always been ambitious. Do you honestly think he'd keep toying with that elf if he could have you?"

She looked at him for a long time before she answered, choosing her words with care. "I think he is in love with her, very much so, and I don't think he's toying with her. And besides, he can't have me. I'm yours, Loghain. All yours. Always have been, always will be."

He groaned and she realized he had been holding on to her shoulder so hard she would be bruised. "Rose. Tell me, did you and Thomas Howe ever-"

Rosalyn shook her head, bewildered by this sudden change of topic. "Thomas? Andraste, no, we didn't. Though Maker knows, he tried." And she couldn't deny she'd been tempted as well.

She remembered it so clearly, that ill-fated youthful romance. Stolen kisses in the corners of the Keep at Highever, shy and brief at first, but soon they had become deeper, hungrier, his hands hot on her skin, his heart beating against hers.

She hadn't been in love with him, but she had liked him, a lot. And it had been exciting to feel how much power she had over him during those secret trysts. It was always wholly up to her how far they went. Thomas was sweet, careful not to ask too much, even as his body betrayed his desire.

Rosalyn bit her lip. "We may have played around a little, that's true. We were young and curious, but it didn't mean a thing. Besides, I knew what was at stake, Loghain. I would never have risked my parents' wrath for _him_."

But that wasn't the whole truth. There had been one time when she had come within an inch of giving in to Thomas. They had been separated from the others during the yearly grand hunt and had found themselves alone in a sunny forest clearing.

* * *

What started out harmless enough, holding hands and smiling at each other, took a more heated turn when she stumbled on the uneven forest floor. He tried to catch her, but overbalanced. They went down to the ground together, their bodies melting into each other, their lips locked in a greedy kiss.

Suddenly Thomas' hands were sliding up under her tunic, finding naked flesh, playing with her small, high breasts, a violent shudder running through him as he felt her reaction. As his hands slid further down her body, teasing, caressing, mapping out her curves, she was hypnotized by his hoarse, pleading voice. "Rose, I want you so badly. Please don't make me stop."

She could feel the tension build in him, could feel him hot and hard against her thigh. His hand brushed against her through her thin leggings, and it felt good, so good that she bucked up against him, stifling a cry. Her reaction robbed him of his last shred of control and he kissed her, harder than before, pinning her to the floor, an intense look on his flushed and eager face. It was this intensity, this single-minded focus, that shocked her out of her pleasurable daze and frightened her into action.

"Tom!" She firmly pushed him back, her voice clear and determined. "Stop it, Tom. I'm not some peasant girl. You know we can't do this."

Thomas tensed and stared at her, and she could feel the frustration coming from him in almost tangible waves. He was trembling with the effort of holding back, and for a moment she was actually afraid of what he would do.

But then he dropped on his back with a loud sigh, hiding his face in his hand. "Give me a moment, Rose, please."

She sat up, nodding quietly, trying to give him a chance to collect himself. If she was honest, she needed the cooling down just as much as he did. When Fergus rode into the clearing some time later they were both calm enough to present a dignified front. Still, he looked at both of them with a fair amount of suspicion.

"I hope you behaved honorably, Tom." Rosalyn had never heard her brother speak in such an icy tone. "My father will have your head if you so much as touched her."

Thomas' eyes narrowed. "Relax, Fergus. Your sister's virtue is safe. Besides, I'm going to marry her anyway. No need for you to worry."

Fergus didn't answer, just snorted and turned to go. But that evening her father took her aside and informed her that a marriage to Thomas wasn't part of his plans for her. Apparently there were a number of older, wealthier suitors he was considering. Rosalyn's face gave nothing away, but she said a silent little prayer of thanks to the Maker, when she realized how much trouble she had avoided.

* * *

Loghain had watched her face patiently while she was lost in her memories. "But you-" he broke off, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Rose laughed softly. Of course. He must have wondered why she hadn't been a virgin when he first made love to her. Loghain knew her. He knew she would never have disgraced her family by an affair with any of her lowborn companions, much as she valued them as friends and followers.

She smiled up at him. "You want to know who my first lover was, don't you?" When he looked away and mumbled something unintelligible, she reached out to stroke his cheek. "I don't blame you, Loghain. But believe me, I wasn't moved by Tom's pleas. Back then, I was determined to save myself for the grand match my father would arrange for me. Then I became a Warden and love was the last thing on my mind. By the time I realized marriage would never be an option for me, we were at Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe?" Loghain frowned, then his eyes darkened with fury. "Teagan."

Rosalyn nodded. "It's not what you think, though. I promise I'll tell you all about it, but not tonight. I've had enough memories for one night, don't you think?"

With a yawn, she cuddled up close to him and fell asleep almost immediately. Loghain lay awake for some time, staring into the darkness.

* * *

_Many, many thanks to S_hebasDawn_, who has kindly agreed to beta this story for me, so you won't have to wait for an update until my other story is finished. She's been incredibly helpful with grammar and punctuation issues, and I'm hugely grateful. More soon!_


	4. Always There for You

**Chapter 4 - Always There for You**

When Anders got the message from Namaya, Rosalyn immediately agreed to go to Amaranthine with him. It was almost too good to be true; finally there was a chance to retrieve his phylactery and make him safer from persecution. According to Namaya, the templars had moved their store of phylacteries to an abandoned warehouse in Amaranthine during the Blight.

"They have no right to control you, Anders." Rosalyn's mouth had set in a determined line. "We will get your phylactery back."

* * *

Rosalyn hated the Circle of Magi and what it stood for. It hadn't always been like this. Growing up, she had feared mages and their powers, like any good Fereldan girl. Everything had changed when it had become apparent that Sybella had magic. Her closest friend from childhood, Sybella was the daughter of a minor noble from one of the estates surrounding Highever. Her power manifested late, at the age of thirteen, and the templars, who were immediately called in, judged her to be weak and of little danger. Still, to the Tower it was. The Chantry would allow no exceptions, not even for the nobility.

Sybella was a sweet, beautiful girl, with creamy skin, large green eyes and auburn hair, full of spirit and laughter. Rosalyn missed her terribly, and at Teyrn Cousland's intervention, the girls got permission to exchange letters. It hadn't taken long for Rosalyn to figure out that her friend's correspondence was closely monitored. On the surface, Sybella's letters told of a happy, peaceful life, but Rosalyn had known her all her life, and she could read between the lines, could detect the increasing desperation and fear. Sybella was afraid of something, or someone, and Rosalyn was deeply worried about her friend. In the end, not knowing what else to do, she spoke to her father about her worries. Bryce Cousland knew his daughter well, and took her seriously, so he immediately contacted the First Enchanter.

It was too late. The message arrived only days later. Sybella had been made Tranquil. According to the Tower's report, she had attacked a Templar who had tried to discipline her for some minor transgression. Rosalyn shivered when she read the dry words. _Tranquil_. She knew what that meant. She knew her friend was irretrievably lost. For weeks she cried herself to sleep. The incident left her with a deep distrust toward templars and the Circle.

* * *

It was for this reason that she had conscripted Anders rather than handing him over to the mage hunter, Rylock. They spent long evenings at the Keep, Anders telling stories of his escape attempts, Rosalyn listening patiently, appalled by what she knew he was hiding behind his light-hearted flippancy. _After my seventh escape attempt, you'd think they'd have given me credit for trying._ Seven attempts. Seven failures. Rosalyn knew that whatever happened she wouldn't let the templars take him back. He was one of hers now, and she would be there for him. She would protect him.

They set out for Amaranthine as soon as they could. Besides Anders, she took Loghain and Velanna with her, leaving Nathaniel in charge at the Keep. She was aware that the elven mage was a less than ideal choice. It was never wise to take a mage when fighting Templars, but Rosalyn hoped that Velanna's Dalish roots would make her less susceptible to their attacks. She didn't have a choice, anyway. Sigrun and Oghren were both still recovering from a routine patrol that had turned nasty.

Velanna didn't particularly enjoy the outing either. The city made her uncomfortable. "I've never seen so many humans in one place. Look at them...crawling all over, like rats."

Anders grinned at her. "Afraid of all the nasty _shemlen_, are you?"

Velanna snorted. "Hardly, mage. My fireballs are bigger than yours."

"It's not the size that counts, Velanna." Anders was visibly enjoying their banter, but Velanna only gave him a haughty look.

"Did they tell you that in your Circle? They were trying not to hurt your feelings."

"Enough!" Rosalyn cut off the squabble, even though she could hardly hide her own grin. They had reached the warehouse, and an uneasy feeling was spreading in her stomach. Something felt...not quite right. When they entered, the large, airy space was empty and quiet. Too quiet.

She exchanged a quick glance with Loghain. He wasn't happy either.

"Trap," he mouthed at her, and his suspicions were confirmed when the door to the adjoining room flew open, revealing Rylock and two other templars.

"You won't find what you're looking for here. Not anymore. Hand the mage over, Warden. He's useless anyway." Rylock's face wore a cold sneer but Rosalyn easily stood up to her.

"No. He stays with us. He has made a fine Grey Warden so far." Anders flashed her a quick grateful smile.

Rosalyn ignored him. She knew they would have to be fast. Before the templars had a chance to use their abilities against the mages, Loghain attacked Rylock with a powerful stroke of his sword, while Rosalyn dove behind another templar and slid her daggers expertly into the gaps in his armour. The man went to the ground with a stifled cry. The third managed to drain Anders, but as Rosalyn had hoped, he failed to realize Velanna was a mage too. Within moments, he screamed in helpless horror as thorny roots sprouted from the warehouse's earthen floor, winding around his legs and dragging him to the ground.

Rosalyn laughed triumphantly. Just then Rylock knocked Loghain back with an expert manoeuvre and turned on her, sword raised high. Loghain cried out, and then he was on his feet again, throwing himself between her and the sword, diverting the blow. Rylock's blade didn't manage to pierce his heavy armour, but he went down to the ground under the force of the blow, and his head hit a stone step with a nasty, crunching noise. Before Rylock could recover, Rose lunged past her guard and slit her throat neatly with her dagger.

Then it was over. Velanna did a quick search of the warehouse, but Rylock had been right. There was no phylactery. In the meantime, Rosalyn had gathered Loghain up in her arms and Anders was doing his best to heal him. The head wound was small and closed easily enough, but he remained unconscious. Rosalyn looked up at Anders, her face so full of worry that it tore at his heart.

The mage bit his lip. "I think he cracked his skull. Head injuries are tricky. I've healed the bone and stopped the internal bleeding, but..."

Velanna came back from her search and spared a quick look at Loghain. "He looks like he's about to die."

Rosalyn stared at her, eyes unseeing, and Anders cursed quietly. "He must rest. Let's take him to the Crown and Lion and wait till morning. He is a Warden, he might recover from this."

Rosalyn's face grew hard. Without hesitation, she got them to the inn, where she rented a small room for herself and Loghain. Anders and Velanna would stay out of sight at the stables, in the guise of servants.

When Anders left after a last bout of healing, Rosalyn crawled onto the bed next to Loghain, curling up against his body. He was so strong, yet he looked so helpless now that he was unconscious. She fought hard to keep back her sobs. _You cannot die. I need you. You were always there for me._

If he died now, it would be because he had saved her. Again. Rosalyn was torn between smiles and tears as she recalled the many occasions on which he had been there for her, all through her life.

_Loghain, picking her out of a high tree when she was five, an indulgent smile on his lips. Loghain, saving her from an angry mabari bitch defending her young, when she was seven, his voice so full of quiet authority that the furious beast retreated with a growl. He quickly checked her injuries, a nasty scrape on her wrist where the dog had held on to her, but then his face turned stern and unyielding, and he told her in no uncertain terms that she had brought this on herself. _

_"Never, ever, come between a bitch and her pups. You've learned your lesson, I hope?"_

His severity was intimidating, but even then she had been smitten by him, worshipping him for his strength and firmness.

There had been one more incident, when she had been thirteen, full of mischief, and had decided to go skinny-dipping in the forest pond near Highever. Loghain had been out hunting, and when he had found her, frolicking naked in the deserted spot, his face had turned hard. Without a word, he had wrapped her in his cloak and told her to get dressed.

"You're lucky it's me who found you," was all he'd said when he took her back. He hadn't told her parents, and she had only belatedly understood the meaning of his words.

Yes, somehow he had always been there for her, watching over her, making sure she wouldn't come to harm. She was no longer a helpless child now. Yet he had saved her life more times than she could count since he had joined up with the Wardens.

Rosalyn couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She clung to his still form, sobbing hard, and praying as she had never prayed before_. Maker, please let him survive the night. Please let him recover. Please don't take him from me._

* * *

_Many thanks to ShebasDawn for helping me sort out this chapter and get a clearer idea of what's to come. So helpful!  
_


	5. The Way It Should Have Been

**Chapter 5 - The Way It Should Have Been**

When Loghain opened his eyes the next morning, Rosalyn felt a rush of relief. He was alive, and his mind seemed clear and unimpaired, although he had a bad headache and was struggling with occasional bouts of dizziness.

Anders frowned as he finished his examinations. "He's better than I could have hoped for, but he needs rest. We'd better not move him too much."

Rosalyn nodded. "I'll stay with him." When Anders opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head. "I know you would be the logical choice, Anders, but there are other things to consider. You shouldn't be seen here after what happened last night, and we need to get Velanna out of the city before she does something stupid. I need you two to go back to the Keep."

She sounded convincing, and Anders gave in easily enough, but deep inside, Rosalyn knew she was making up reasons. Any reason so that she wouldn't have to leave her beloved. She knew she wouldn't be able to bear it if he got worse while she was away. Vigil's Keep and her responsibilities there would have to wait. And if a tiny voice was nagging at her that this was not how a Warden Commander should act, this was not how a Cousland would behave, she was more than ready to ignore it for once.

Before they parted, Anders did a final check-up of Loghain's injuries. He sighed as he stepped back. "There's nothing more I can do for him. All he needs is peace and quiet. Make sure he stays in bed." He couldn't quite hide a dirty grin as he looked at Rosalyn. "And by 'in bed' I mean resting. He mustn't overexert himself. In any way."

Rosalyn slapped him playfully on the back of his head. "Enough, Anders. Time for you to be on your way."

The mages left, and they settled in. She didn't mind taking care of Loghain, but he was restless and grumpy. He hated being tied down, unable to be up and about as usual. Rosalyn tried her best to distract him with stories, but he soon grew tired of the ones he'd heard before.

"Maybe you should tell me about Teagan. Didn't you say you would?"

Rosalyn sighed. "Alright, but you have to promise not to get too agitated. It's not good for you."

"Is there a reason for me to be agitated?" Loghain raised an eyebrow.

"There might be." Rosalyn bit her lip. She wasn't particularly proud of what had happened at Redcliffe. "Anyway, if you insist. After Ostagar I was so lost, so alone, and it seemed like a good idea to go and ask Arl Eamon for help. My father had always spoken very highly of him, and I didn't know who else to turn to. Cailan was dead, and you were so distant when we met, so cold." She swallowed at the memory of his grim face, his words of farewell_. If the King doesn't prove amenable to wisdom...just pray._

Loghain closed his eyes, recalling their brief meeting. "I'm sorry, Rose. All I have to say in my defence is that it's never wise to take your problems to a general on the eve of battle. I was worried sick about Cailan, about the army. I don't think I even really understood what you were saying."

Rosalyn nodded. "Anyway, Eamon seemed like our best bet, but when we arrived at Redcliffe, it was mayhem. Undead attackers were emerging from the castle at night. Everyone was frightened out of their senses, and I really didn't know what to do. Teagan was there, in the Chantry, trying to calm everyone down."

She closed her eyes and let the memories take over, her own voice sounding faraway and faint to her.

* * *

When Teagan spotted her at the head of her small troupe of followers, she could hardly keep up with the emotions chasing each other across his handsome face. Shock, disbelief, hope, and in the end, delighted surprise.

"Rosalyn Cousland? Lady Rose? Is it really you? Can it be? But we thought..." He rushed toward her, grasping her hand between both of his. "We thought your family had all perished at Highever. They said there were no survivors."

Rosalyn's face hardened. "There weren't any, except for me. My mother, my father, Ser Gilmore, the servants...they are all dead, Bann Teagan. Slaughtered by that traitor, Arl Howe. Maker only knows what happened to Fergus. I've had no news of anyone since Ostagar."

She realized she was shaking. It was such a relief to see a familiar face, to be among her own kind again. Teagan's eyes were full of concern, his voice gentle when he offered his condolences. There was little time to talk, however. They had to make plans for the coming night, to discuss strategies for dealing with the walking undead.

When the battle began, it was a bloodcurdling nightmare, worse than anything she had seen before. Rosalyn's heart was bleeding as her blades cut down one attacker after the other. These monsters had once been loyal servants of the Arl's family, gentle souls whose only crime had been to be in the wrong place when the madness started. Some of them had no doubt taken care of her on her previous visits. Once or twice she thought she recognized a familiar face behind the evil grimaces and it nearly made her falter.

When it was finally over and they got to the root of the problem, things got worse. Rosalyn wasn't sentimental, but the thought of slaying Connor, killing a child, no matter if he was possessed by a demon, made her wince. Fortunately the mage, Jowan, came forward and proposed a way out. Arlessa Isolde offered her life so that her son should live, and Rosalyn accepted gratefully. Her respect for the woman grew immensely, and when Isolde had bled to death on the cold stone floor, she closed her eyes with gentle reverence.

After that day of horrors she was only too glad to be able to retire to a room of her own, to have a bath and put on fresh, clean clothes. She had just returned from the bathing chamber, however, when there was a knock at her door.

"Alistair?" She stared at her fellow Warden in disbelief.

His face was flushed with anger and he stormed into the room without asking permission. "Rosalyn. We need to talk. How could you allow this?"

"What are you talking about?" She knew she was not dealing with this well, but she was so tired, so worn out.

"Don't play dumb with me! How could you allow a blood magic ritual? How could you allow Isolde to be killed? Maker, Rosalyn, I never thought you could be this callous."

Rosalyn couldn't believe her ears. After all they'd been through, this was his reaction? Her face froze. Enunciating every word with careful precision, she stepped closer to him, fighting the urge to shake him. "Callous? You think I'm callous because I chose the only way that let the boy survive? Get out, Alistair. Leave my room, before I-"

"No need." His voice was cold. "I'm leaving. But I won't forget this. Today I've seen what you're made of. You're just as heartless as all the other nobles."

He rushed out of the door and she followed him a few steps down the corridor, driven by a compulsion to talk to him, to make him see. Tears were rising in her eyes, blinding her, so she didn't immediately recognize the figure she ran into.

"Bann Teagan?" Her voice sounded hollow and strained.

When Teagan put an arm around her and led her back to her chamber, muttering soothing words, she followed willingly, unable to stop her body from shaking. Alistair's outburst had been the last straw.

Teagan sat down in a large armchair, pulling her into his lap and stroking her hair gently as if she was a child. "Shhh, Rosalyn, calm down. I'm sure he will apologize in the morning."

She shook her head. "He won't. He doesn't understand, Teagan. What Isolde did...that's what my mother did for me. Sacrifice herself so that our name would live on, so that I could live. How could someone like Alistair possibly understand that?" Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

Teagan didn't answer, but he held her close until she stopped sobbing. Rosalyn felt warm and safe in his arms. He was clean and well-groomed, and he smelled of brandy and tobacco. With a pang she remembered her father's words, only days before his death. _Teagan Guerrin has expressed a strong interest in marrying you, pup. I think you could do a lot worse. Excellent family, and there's a strong chance he'll be his brother's heir, what with Connor being an only child, and sickly to boot. Anyway, from what I've heard he's a kind man. What do you say I invite him over for a visit, so you can see for yourself?_

Afterwards Rosalyn couldn't remember when Teagan's words of comfort had turned into professions of love, when he had begun to cover her tear-streaked face in soft little kisses. She couldn't say exactly when his lips found hers and he kissed her, tenderly at first, but then with more insistence, his hand buried in her hair at the nape of her neck. She only knew that she didn't want him to stop, and when he pulled back with a sigh and suggested he'd better leave, she shook her head.

"Don't go, Teagan. Please."

He looked at her searchingly, and she could see the fire in those clear blue eyes, behind the gentle warmth. With a pleasant shudder she remembered snatches of hushed conversations she had overheard. For all his unimpeachable honour, he had a bit of a reputation as a ladies' man, and she recalled her mother's friends rolling their eyes, pretending to be scandalized at the mentioning of his name. Yet he'd been willing to marry her and give up his freedom in exchange for her hand.

"Please, Teagan." She pulled him in for another kiss, turning in his lap until she was straddling him.

His grip around her waist tightened, and he got up, lifting her easily, and carried her over to the large bed. "Rosalyn."

And then she was lying on the soft sheets and he was bending over her, kissing her, caressing her, and just for this one night she could pretend everything was as it should be, imagine she had married the man her father would have approved of. She could lose herself in an elaborate fantasy where he had taken her home as his bride and was even now busy undressing her to take possession of her body.

Teagan was everything she could have hoped for in a first lover: gentle, considerate, and experienced. His lips and hands soon ignited a fire in her, made her burn with an urgency she hadn't realized she was capable of. Under his expert touch, she began to moan and whimper, her skin flushed with desire, her whole body tingling with lust.

He seemed delighted with the way she responded to his caresses, enchanted by the small noises she made. When he parted her legs, she was eager to meet his touch, as ready for him as she could be. It hurt only a little, but her reaction was enough to remove any possible doubt he could have had about her maidenhood. Rosalyn didn't miss his tiny gasp, the widening of his eyes when he realized he was indeed the first to introduce her to sensual pleasures.

The initial discomfort soon subsided, and Rosalyn let herself be carried away on a wave of sheer sweet sensation. Teagan held her, his embrace firm and sure as she cried out in his arms, overcome by the intensity of what she was feeling. They fell asleep afterwards, close and warm, both exhausted in every possible way from the day's events.

When Rosalyn woke in the morning, he was looking at her, his expression full of tenderness, mixed with a hint of guilt.

"Rose, I must apologize for getting carried away. It was never my intention..." He cleared his throat. "I'll talk to Mother Hannah as soon as I can. I'm sure we can get married within the week."

Her breath caught in her throat. "So, you would still have me? I'm a nobody now, Teagan. My family has lost everything. I have no dowry, no political connections, nothing to bring to you."

Teagan snorted angrily. "Did you think that was why I wished to marry you? My family is rich and influential enough. No, Rose." He caught and held her gaze, the look in his eyes so intense she could hardly bear it. "It's always been you I wanted. Just you."

Rosalyn closed her eyes. For a moment the temptation was almost overwhelming_. Say yes. Forget about the darkspawn, leave the Blight to Alistair, be what you were meant to be. _But then she shook her head.

"No, Teagan. I can't, no matter how much I want to. I have duties as a Warden. Besides..." She swallowed hard. "I couldn't do that to you, Teagan. You need sons, heirs, now more than ever. And I wouldn't be able to give them to you. The Taint..."

It had been cruel, to see the light in Teagan's eyes dim to a dull pain. She had forced herself to remain firm, ignored all his protestations of love, and only days later they had left, on their quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

* * *

When Rosalyn had finished, Loghain didn't quite know what to say. Fortunately, she didn't expect any answers right away. She got up and started to prepare a new cup of tea for him, but he noticed her throwing quick glances in his direction and biting her lip. It was obvious she was worried about his reaction to her tale.

He was troubled by what she'd told him. Not so much because she had slept with Teagan, though some part of him wanted to grab the other man and shake him for taking advantage of her moment of weakness. Still, he had known for some time that there had been someone else, and he could deal with it.

No, there was another implication of her story that was far more alarming, and the longer he looked at it, the less he liked the pattern that was emerging. _You weren't there... I didn't know what to do... And then Teagan turned up._ His frown deepened.

"Loghain?" Her voice sounded small, almost fearful, and he clenched his teeth. This woman had slain an Archdemon. Yet here she was, trembling because she feared what he would say. Something needed to change.

"You were right, Rose." Her head flew up at his words and she stared at him, her eyes beginning to swim with tears, but he refused to be moved. This was important. "I don't like this story. We need to talk."

* * *

_Hugs and thanks to ShebasDawn who is such a great help with grammar, punctuation and keeping this story on track. ;-)_


	6. A Moment of Peace

**Chapter 6 - A Moment of Peace **

"I...I don't think I want to talk about it." Rosalyn was almost pouting, her full lips thrust out adorably. It took all the restraint he had not to pull her in his arms and kiss her. "I know I was stupid, Loghain. I should have waited for you. You know Teagan means nothing to me."

"That is not...blight it!" Loghain tried to sit up, but another blinding flash of pain in his head sent him reeling back onto the bed.

"Keep still." Rosalyn sounded worried. Carefully she rearranged his pillows, then snuggled up close to him. "Please, Loghain. Those are old stories. I love you." She looked up at him, a mischievous grin appearing on her face. "Trust me, as soon as you're better, I will show you exactly how much."

For a second her lips brushed against his neck, before she pulled back with a sigh. "Just you wait."

* * *

It took almost a week for Loghain to recover sufficiently to be up and about without seeing stars or getting nauseous. Still, it was obvious he was feeling better with each passing day. Every day he was grumbling more, growing more impatient and grumpy. And every day his glances at Rosalyn became more heated, when she was leaning over him to fluff his pillow or stretching languidly to work the kinks out of her neck. She was adamant about his need to rest, though, and wouldn't even let him kiss her, afraid of getting him too worked up to stop.

When Rosalyn finally proclaimed him to be fit for travelling, Loghain shook his head and pulled her close.

"No. Vigil's Keep can wait another day, but I can't possibly go one more day without your touch." His voice was hoarse with desire, and Rosalyn shivered when she looked into his eyes. _So intense. So focussed._ Sometimes it almost frightened her, this single-minded concentration on her. Not today, though. Today, it touched something deep inside her and made her heart flutter with pleasurable anticipation.

"Rose." His lips brushed lightly against hers, and she could feel the tension behind his iron control, the powerful desire burning just below the surface. Yet he refused to be rushed, determined to savour every moment of their lovemaking. She knew he could keep this up almost indefinitely; she knew that by the time he was done with her, she would beg him to take her.

Slowly he slid down on his knees in front of her, burying his face in her stomach, hiding it in the folds of her tunic. Rosalyn bowed down to plant a kiss on his head and held him close, basking in the rare sense of peace she felt. For one brief moment, the world was perfect and she wanted to hold on to this moment's happiness with an intensity bordering on desperation.

Then he shifted in her arms, and his lips brushed against her breasts through the thin fabric of her tunic. Rosalyn gasped hard as everything changed. The sweet, tender serenity gave way to something altogether more urgent, and she pulled him closer, rubbing herself against him shamelessly.

"Loghain." Maker, she _wanted_ him. She had missed him so much, his firm, assured touch, the heat of his lips on her skin, his weight on top of her. "Loghain, I need..."

"What do you need?" He sounded almost playful, though she could feel the effort it cost him to hold back. "Tell me."

His hands were slowly, insistently pushing up her tunic, his lips finding every inch of bare skin as he progressed. Rosalyn moaned, arching into his touch.

"Tell me." His hands tightened around her waist, and Rosalyn cried out.

"You." Looking down at him, her eyes blown wide with desire, she caught and held his gaze. "Just you, Loghain. Now."

He groaned at her words and rose in one fast, fluid motion, lifting her up into his arms. There were no words after that and very little rational thought. Somehow they made it to the bed; somehow their clothes came off. And then it was all skin on skin, the salty taste of sweat and arousal, the tiny, desperate noises torn from her throat as he caressed her, his answering sighs as she drew him in ever closer until their bodies melted into each other, so close, so tight that it seemed nothing could ever come between them again.

Rosalyn lost herself in the single, perfect moment of pleasure he gave her, a moment so sweet and pure and full of love it was almost too much to bear. When she opened her eyes afterwards and looked into his face, the raw emotion she'd buried under happy chatter and playful innuendoes during these past few days hit her like a punch to the gut. The mere thought of how close she had come to losing him forever, to never feeling his touch again, made tears well up in her eyes, and she pressed them shut, trying to hide her sadness from him. It was no use, however.

"Rose?" The concern in his voice nearly broke her heart.

"It's fine, love. Just hold me." She pulled him closer, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. "Oh Maker, I'm so glad you're alive!"

"So am I." He covered her face in kisses, trying to calm her down with soothing noises and gentle caresses, but he was frowning again. _We still need to talk. This is too important to let go. Not now, though._

* * *

They set out early next morning and arrived at Vigil's Keep shortly after noon. With an approving glance, Rosalyn noted that work on the battlements was progressing nicely. Voldrik was doing a fine job with the masonry, putting the granite she'd found for him to good use. As they passed the gatehouse, however, she frowned. Something was amiss, she could feel it in her bones. Or maybe the sour faces of the guards gave it away.

When she entered the throne room, Nathaniel was already waiting for her, Anders at his side. She had expected him to be busy with the tasks he had taken on in her absence. Yet here he was, walking towards her with an expression that vacillated between anger and anxiety.

"Commander. It's good to have you back. There have been... unexpected developments."

Rosalyn sighed and took off her helmet. "It figures. What's going on, Nate? And who are they?"

She inclined her head briefly in the direction of five men in Warden armour seated at the other end of the large hall.

"Orlesians." Nathaniel almost spat out the word. "Sent here from Weisshaupt. Wait until you meet their leader."

_Weisshaupt._ Rosalyn's heart sank. When the First Warden had demanded that Loghain be sent to Orlais over a year ago, she hadn't worried too much. She'd answered his letter with a brief message stating that she needed Loghain to deal with the aftermath of the Blight and she couldn't spare him. There had been two more letters since then, but she'd always found reasons why he had to stay. It seemed the First Warden's patience had finally worn thin.

"Their leader?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at Nathaniel, having decided to ignore the other wardens for the time being.

"Stroud, he said his name was," Anders supplied. "They arrived three days ago, and he claimed that as a special envoy from the Anderfels he outranked Nate, so he took command."

Rosalyn's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

Nathaniel bit his lip. "Up in your quarters. We tried to give him a suite of rooms in the guest wing, but he said they weren't worthy of his rank and requisitioned your rooms instead."

"He did _what_?" Rosalyn was almost too stunned to speak, but then she tossed back her head, a determined expression on her face. "Up there, now. Come with me, Nate. And you, Anders. Loghain?"

He was at her side already, nodding grimly. Together they made their way up to her suite. Rosalyn pushed the door open without knocking. She was furious.

The tall warrior who rose from the chair behind her desk was dark and swarthy, and he sported an almost ridiculously long moustache. But there was nothing ridiculous about the icy, calculating gaze he favoured her with.

"Warden Commander Cousland, I presume? So you're finally back from your little jaunt. And Loghain Mac Tir too, I see." He paused, grinning without a trace of humour. "The butcher of Ferelden. An interesting addition to our ranks indeed."

His Orlesian accent was pronounced, and it took all of Rosalyn's self control not to respond to his taunts. She could feel Loghain stiffen at her side, but he kept quiet, and so did she. For the moment.

"I hope you won't mind that I've made myself comfortable here, Commander." Again the icy stare. "The quarters your people offered me looked more suitable for your precious Fereldan dogs than for me and my companions."

Rosalyn raised her chin. "I _do_ mind. You will get your things out of here within the hour. And then you will inform me about the meaning of this charade."

Stroud shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "As you wish. I think it should be fairly obvious. You have repeatedly failed to follow the First Warden's express orders regarding _Warden_ Loghain." His voice was dripping with contempt. "So now I'm here to make sure he goes to Montsimmard. It's as simple as that."

Rosalyn was trembling with rage, her small hands clenched into fists. "We shall see about that! You're in my arldom here, on Fereldan soil, and I'm telling you, Loghain will remain at my side. He's needed here."

Stroud grinned insolently. "Yes, I can see that. However, _milady_, you are a Warden now, no longer a little princess, and you will obey the First Warden's orders."

Hardly able to contain her temper, Rosalyn motioned for Nathaniel and Anders to escort Stroud out, then turned to Loghain, fuming with rage. "How dare he! How dare he treat me as if I was a spoilt child?"

"Because you behaved like one just now." The words left Loghain's mouth before he could help it, and Rosalyn went pale.

"How can you say that? Andraste's mercy, Loghain, I can't let you go, I can't. We have little enough time as it is. I want you here, I need you by my side. No First Warden will take you from me." She looked incredibly young and lost.

He sighed and took her in his arms. "Shhh, Rose. Please calm down. You can't act like this."

"Calm down?" She looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "I'm telling you, I can't let you go. I wouldn't know what to do without you. Besides, do you honestly want to go to Orlais? You've met Stroud. You heard what he called you."

Loghain ground his teeth. "I heard. But Rose, I've been a soldier all my life. This is an order, and we can't just ignore it. The First Warden is well within his rights. And besides, you know perfectly well how to get along without me. You did it all through the Blight."

"The Blight was different," Rosalyn protested. "As for the First Warden..." When she raised her head, he saw a new determination in her face, something that went beyond her stubborn insistence not to let him go. "I won't accept his interference in Fereldan matters. He can't just take _my_ Wardens from my command and hand them over to Orlais." She practically spat out the last word. "It doesn't even make sense. They have plenty of Wardens, whereas we are still struggling to find recruits. I'm not giving up, love."

He smiled at her. _Much better._ At least she was focussing on the situation now, no longer on him alone. Still, he feared it wouldn't be as easy as she thought. Here in Ferelden her name and status carried enough weight to open almost every door for her. Weisshaupt wouldn't care about the Cousland name. All they would see was an upstart young Warden Commander refusing to follow orders.

"Come on, Rose." He kissed her softly on the forehead. "Let's get some rest. You can deal with Stroud tomorrow."

* * *

_Many thanks to ShebasDawn for smoothing out all the little wrinkles._


	7. Promise Me

**Chapter 7 - Promise Me**

Rosalyn and Loghain stayed in her quarters for the time being. Stroud's possessions were swiftly dispatched to the guest wing. Rosalyn's nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought that the man had actually slept in her bed, _their_ bed. She had the maids change the sheets, while she shared a snack with Loghain and went through the paperwork which had accumulated in her absence.

Finally she leaned back with a sigh, stretching like a cat. "This will have to do. I need a break."

"Let's go and say hello to Miranda, shall we?" Loghain rose. "I'm sure she's missed you, and the Mabari kennels should be the least likely place to run into any Orlesians."

She grinned up at him. "Too delicate to bear the smell of dogs, do you think? Good idea."

They spent over an hour at the kennels, petting Miranda, taking a look at the newest pups, and discussing what could be done.

"I will have to go with them, at least for the time being." Loghain's face was sombre. "It's the only way you are ever going to get rid of Stroud. The man is like a childer grub. Once he's got his teeth into you, he won't let go."

Rosalyn snorted. "An apt description. I detest him, I truly do. All right then." She closed her eyes to hide her pain. "I'll let him know you're coming with him. But not right away. You'll need at least another three days to get ready."

Loghain nodded. "Three days it is, then." He took her in his arms. "Don't be sad, Rose. Time will pass quickly, and I'm sure you'll find a way to convince the First Warden." He hesitated for a moment. "Who knows, maybe it will be good for you not to have me around all the time."

He felt her stiffen in his arms. "What do you mean?" There was an edge to her voice, and he braced himself mentally. He didn't want to quarrel with her, not now when they had so little time left, but some things needed to be said.

"Rose, you're the Warden Commander. You can't look to me every time you make a decision, every time things get difficult. You have to stand on your own and people have to see you don't need me around."

Rosalyn pulled back, her eyes full of hurt. "But I do need you. I can't do it alone. I love you."

It cut into his heart to go on, but he knew he had to. "You are stronger than you think, Rose. Once I'm gone you'll realize it. I know you will."

She turned away, her disappointment clearly discernible in the lines of her neck and shoulders. "So you'll leave me. Just like that. I thought you cared for me."

"I do." He reached out for her and pulled her close again. _More than you'll ever know._She didn't resist, but he knew he had hurt her. _Maker knows, that's the last thing I ever wanted. And if there was any other way... _

"Promise me you'll be strong, Rose." His voice was firm. "Give me your word."

Rosalyn wouldn't meet his eyes, hiding her face against his shoulder, but after a while he felt her nod. "I promise."

* * *

Stroud grudgingly agreed to wait three more days, but he seemed determined to make his stay as disagreeable for them as possible. Just to see him prancing around the Keep, questioning the servants and inspecting every nook and cranny, was enough to set Rosalyn's teeth on edge.

On their last day, she knocked on Loghain's door early in the morning, dressed in her leathers, with her bow on her back and a small satchel in her hand.

"Let's go out hunting. I'm going mad cooped up in here with that Orlesian bastard."

Loghain readily agreed. It was early in the year yet, not quite springtime, but the snow was gone and the lake near the Keep was full of waterfowl. They had a decent hunt, and several spring geese and black ducks to show for their efforts by the time they paused for lunch. They shared some dried beef and bread, while Miranda shook the water out of her fur with a pleased grunt and stretched out on the ground. It was warm here in the sun, and Rosalyn took off her helmet and shook out her hair.

"You're so beautiful." There was a hitch in Loghain's voice, and Rosalyn smiled mischievously as she looked at him.

He was leaning against one of the huge granite boulders strewn across the meadow. For once he looked relaxed and content, his eyes squeezed almost shut against the bright sunlight reflected off the water of the lake. Rosalyn loved seeing him like this, out here where he felt most at home, in his well-worn leathers that allowed him to move far more gracefully and stealthily than his chevalier armour. When he began to move towards her, she stopped him with a quick gesture.

"Stay!" In a flash, she was right before him, kissing him enthusiastically. His delighted laugh turned into a groan when she sank on her knees before him and began fiddling with his leather leggings.

"Rose." He sounded scandalized, but she could feel how much it excited him, to have her behave so wantonly, out here in the open, even if they were alone and in little danger of being seen.

With a quick smile up at him, she freed him from the confines of the leather and closed her soft lips around his shaft. His head flew back and he groaned again, as she took him in deep. Glancing up at him, she found him watching her, his eyes wide with arousal and fixed intently on her face. Rosalyn moaned and felt an answering shudder run through his whole body. She withdrew a bit and smiled up at him before she proceeded to nibble gently, then let her tongue swirl around the crown until he hissed sharply.

"Enough."

He pulled her up into his arms and kissed her, then spun her around, changing positions so she was now pressed against the hard stone. His hands and mouth were everywhere on her body, slipping beneath her armour to find and caress naked skin. When he pushed down her leggings, she shivered briefly in the cool air, but she forgot about the cold the moment his fingers found her heat. He worked her mercilessly, giving her no respite, and within minutes she was keening softly, biting his leather-clad shoulder to keep the noise down.

With an impatient grunt he turned her over and bent her down over the boulder, carefully positioning himself before he pushed inside her, hard and forceful. Rosalyn cried out. _Oh Maker, yes!_ The stone was scraping her elbows and the cool breeze made her shudder, but it was perfect, the angle making him brush against her core in all the right places. She met his thrusts eagerly. It didn't take long until she screamed hoarsely, her head thrown back in ecstasy. He followed her quickly, his arms and legs shaking from the strain of holding back.

Slowly he slid out of her, turned her back and gathered her in his arms, holding her tight. "Rose. That was-"

She laughed, a little breathlessly. "I figured I'd better make sure you won't forget me once you're surrounded by pretty Orlesian ladies."

Loghain snorted. "Hardly. If anyone should be worried, it's me." He tried to sound light-hearted but there was more truth to his words than he cared to admit. It was fortunate he was busy buckling his armour so it was easy to hide the concern on his face from her.

When he wasn't around, would she still be blind to all the others? Would she still think he was the only one worthy of her affection? Or would she find someone else, a younger, more easy-going man? There was nothing he could do but trust her.

The next morning came far too early for both of them. They had already said their proper goodbyes in the privacy of her rooms, but when she came to see him off in the courtyard, she impulsively threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him for a moment.

"Loghain. I love you."

Stroud was rolling his eyes in the background, and Loghain sighed. He kissed her, a brief, sweet kiss, and freed himself from her embrace, holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.

"It will be fine, Rose. Everything happens for a reason. Remember what we agreed on."

Ignoring Stroud's pointed glares, he held her and looked into her eyes, waiting for her to nod. Only then did he turn away. He left without another look back.

* * *

Loghain leaned back against his saddle, trying to ignore the taunts and cutting remarks from his fellow wardens. They had been at him for three days now, trying to provoke some sort of reaction from the man they had been taught to hate from early childhood. He hadn't given them the satisfaction of responding, having decided long ago that their kind was beneath his contempt. He let them talk and closed his eyes, lost in memories of happier times.

Until one of them, the youngest, a lanky blond boy with freckles walked straight up to him and lightly kicked his shin. "What's the matter, butcher? Do you miss fucking that pretty little commander of yours? I don't blame you. She's a hot little piece of-"

He didn't get any further. Loghain was up in a flash, grabbing him by the front of his jerkin. "Enough! You will show Commander Cousland some respect! She took down an Archdemon. What have you achieved so far?"

The boy blushed and stammered, throwing a pleading glance at his commanding officer.

But Stroud only grunted. "He's right, Michel. Keep your filthy mouth shut, will you?"

Michel scrambled back to his place as soon as Loghain let go of him. Stroud's eyes met Loghain's and he nodded briefly, but he didn't say another word.

* * *

Rosalyn began planning her strategy as soon as they had left. The first and most obvious step would be to lodge a formal complaint about Stroud with Weisshaupt. There was no way she would tolerate the man's behaviour. Mistress Woolsey turned out to be a great help in this task, armed as she was with an extensive knowledge of Warden rules, regulations, and precedents.

Next she sat down and made a list of her possible allies. She would have to call in a number of favours to get her way. Fortunately, she wasn't without friends, but she would have to tread carefully.

Queen Anora and Alistair were uncertain candidates. They owed her, of course, and Anora loved her father dearly. Still, neither of them approved of Rosalyn's relationship with Loghain. They would help, if asked, but only if she could make them see Loghain's return would be to their advantage.

Her brother Fergus was a similar case. He loved his little sister and would do anything in his power to help her. But after the Blight he had taken his rightful place as Teyrn of Highever, and he would never consider any course of action that proved harmful to his Teyrnir. Besides, he was still wary and distanced towards Loghain. Fergus had lost his wife and son to Arl Howe's machinations, and he had a hard time forgiving Loghain's association with the man.

Mistress Woolsey had turned out to be a valuable source of information on the politics of the Anderfels. Rosalyn was grateful she had taken the time to make friends with the old woman when she first came to Vigil's Keep.

There was another potential ally, she realized. Gerod Caron, the Warden Commander of Orlais. Her Orlesian counterpart couldn't possibly be happy about having Loghain under his command. Besides, if the First Warden took it into his head to just move wardens from one country to the next it would create a dangerous precedent for any of the national commanders. She would write to Gerod, Rosalyn decided, and try to learn more about him, try to make him see her point of view.

With a sigh, she put down her list. There was a lot for her to do, but it all came down to one thing. She would have to go to Orlais herself to bring Loghain back. But not now. Before she could leave, there were people to contact, arrangements to be made, and problems to deal with here in Amaranthine. If she wanted any chance at all to see this through, she couldn't afford to lose her opponent's respect, which meant she couldn't just leave her post as Ferelden's Warden Commander. Her wardens relied on her too, and she couldn't let them down.

With a heavy heart, she got ready for bed and crept between the sheets. The nights were going to be the worst part. She missed Loghain so much already, his stern face, his solid, reliable presence at her side, the love and pride in his eyes when he looked at her.

But did he really love her? Would he have given up so easily, left her all alone if he really cared? She knew how much he admired strength. How could he possibly love her if he thought her weak and dependent? Over and over she heard his words in her mind. _You sounded__ like a spoilt child. You need to be strong. Promise me. I know you can do it._ But what if she couldn't? What if she disappointed him?

Alone in her room in the dark, Rosalyn burst into tears, sobbing into her pillow until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

_Hugs and thanks to ShebasDawn who helped make this a much better chapter.  
_


	8. Justice is a Noble Trait

**Chapter 8 - Justice is a Noble Trait**

Fortunately, Rosalyn had little time to mope and feel sorry for herself in the weeks to come. There seemed to be no shortage of troubles, and she spent her time routing smugglers and keeping the trade routes safe from bandit attacks. They still didn't have nearly enough wardens to deal with everything. In particular, Rosalyn sorely missed having more warriors at her disposal. Velanna and Anders were able battlemages and Sigrun and Nathaniel were skilled rogues, whose sneak attacks had fatally surprised more than one foe. But sometimes only sheer brute force would win the day, and in Loghain's absence she had to rely solely on Oghren for brawn.

So when Seneschal Varel talked about an Orlesian warden who had gone missing on a routine patrol, she made it her priority to go looking for him. From what Varel told her, Kristoff had been an able fighter, and if he was still alive, he would be a valuable asset. It took them a while and a great amount of patience to track down his whereabouts, but Rosalyn could be persistent, and in the end she managed to decipher the clues in the journal he had left behind. The trail led them to the Blackmarsh.

The Blackmarsh.

Being a warden had led her to many less than agreeable places, but when they reached the deserted wetland, only a few days' travel from the Keep, Rosalyn was truly glad to have Anders and Nathaniel at her side. The marsh was a dreary, depressing place, cold and damp and unnaturally silent. No birds were singing, no squirrels were playing in the misshapen, stunted trees lining their path. Rosalyn shuddered when she recognized the vague humming in her blood. _The Taint._ Darkspawn.

The others felt it too, she could tell. Nathaniel's face hardened, but Anders flashed her a quick, nervous grin and a suggestive look.

"I'm scared. Hold me?"

Rosalyn almost smiled. For once she was glad for the mage's flippancy, but then he went on. "I've heard about this place. Didn't an entire village up and vanish, or something?"

Nathaniel nodded. "My old Nan used to tell me stories. This place used to be part of our family's lands, you know." He blushed and threw Rose an apologetic glance. "Anyway, the marsh is supposed to be haunted. Ghosts, you know, and marsh lights, luring travellers away from the paths and into the swamp. Nan claimed there was a village here once, many years ago."

Rosalyn shivered. The soggy, desolate landscape didn't look as if anyone could ever have made their home here. Yet a little later, they came upon a tent and the remnants of a camp fire. It didn't take them long to establish that it must have been Kristoff's, but there was no sign of their fellow warden, and Rosalyn's heart sank.

Just around the corner from the camp, something else caught their attention. A huge skull, the bone bare and white from exposure to what little sun there was, giant teeth and spiky ridges leaving no doubt what had died here.

"A dragon!" Nathaniel blanched. "So Nan's stories were true. This must be the Queen of the Blackmarsh."

Rosalyn threw him a sharp glance and shivered. "Let's make camp. You can tell us the tale once we have a proper fire going."

* * *

They set up their tents and gathered around the campfire. The flames were painting patterns on their faces, adding to the spooky atmosphere. Nathaniel's husky voice sounded eerie as he fell into the familiar rhythm of the story he had heard so many times.

"Many years ago, when the Orlesians still enslaved Ferelden, a queen among the dragon folk made her home in the Blackmarsh. The villagers were terrified of the beast, but helpless against it. During the day they saw the dragon pass over their huts and hovels, and at night they would hear it roar, putting fear in their hearts. In their desperation, they turned to the lady of the manor for help. The Baroness was a fine woman, but she was an Orlesian, one of the hated oppressors. She told the peasants they had done the right thing, that she'd been sent from Orlais not just to rule, but to protect. Within the week, she set out, all alone and at night. When she returned in the morning, the dragon was slain."

Rosalyn breathed in sharply, and Nathaniel couldn't quite hide a smile.

"The villagers celebrated the victory and thanked her profusely, but not long afterwards the rumours started. She was a witch, they said, a dark mage who would kill them all, one by one, to feed the demons she consorted with. One night, a few months after the dragon disappeared, they marched against the manor house and set fire to it. They say she cast one last spell before she died, taking them all with her, turning the Blackmarsh into a desolate waste forever."

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow. "That's it? They killed her? After all she had done for them?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "That's how the story goes. The people rose against the evil Orlesian witch and put her to death."

With an exasperated sigh, Rosalyn jumped up and paced to and fro in agitation. "But that doesn't make sense! The way I see it she took care of her people, as any good landowner should. Assuming she even existed, because I fail to see how she could have killed a dragon on her own. And for the record, I sincerely doubt she was a blood mage!"

Snorting contemptuously, she turned to face them. "There are always rumours and stories. Sounds to me like those ungrateful, ignorant peasants killed the very person who had their best interests at heart." Rosalyn sighed. "Poor lady. To have her subjects rebel against her! Those filthy lowlifes clearly didn't know their place."

Anders' head snapped up, his expressive face full of disgust. The mage opened his mouth, but failed to come up with one of his usual sarcastic comments. Nathaniel gave her a sharp look.

"You're not serious, are you, Commander? You sound almost like my father."

Rosalyn's face darkened. "For all his faults, Nate, your father was a Howe. He, at least, knew better than to mess with the proper order of things."

Nathaniel flinched at her not-so-subtle dig at his affair with Velanna, but decided to let it rest. No use squabbling while they were on a mission. Besides, he knew Rosalyn's opinions were in no way unusual for a lady of her class. He himself had shared them, until he had lost it all and come to understand there were more important things than noble blood.

* * *

When Rosalyn woke the next morning, the atmosphere was tense. Anders kept looking at her sideways and Nathaniel's face gave nothing of his thoughts away. Her mouth set in a stubborn line. _Let them think what they like. I don't care._

A little further into the marsh, they found their worst fears confirmed. Kristoff's dead body was lying sprawled on the ground, already showing signs of decay. Rosalyn swallowed back the bile in her throat. Turning him over, she tried to find a possible cause of death, when she suddenly swayed on her feet. The vague tingling she had felt ever since they had entered the marsh exploded into a sudden inferno. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked up and realized they were surrounded by darkspawn. Then one of them started to _talk_. She could only listen in impotent fury to its ramblings about a _mother_ and a _father_, about gifts and traps.

The last thing she saw was a blinding light, then everything became a blur. She drew her daggers, and for a while nothing existed but the fight, a strange, desperate struggle against a seemingly unending number of darkspawn. When the last one had been slain, she looked around and cursed violently.

"The Fade." Anders had appeared at her side, an uneasy look on his face.

Rosalyn nodded. She, too, had recognized the surreal landscape, home of dreams and demons. Her memories of it were unpleasant, to say the least, but she fought back her rising panic and looked around, trying to make some sort of sense of their surroundings.

They were still in the Blackmarsh, albeit a strange, twisted version of it. The demons attacking them came as no surprise, and neither did the hordes of undead they found and fought a little later. When they finally reached the village square and were greeted by yet another spirit, Rosalyn nearly attacked it on sight, but Anders stayed her hand.

"Wait, Commander." His eyes were narrowed in concentration. "This is no demon."

"No, I'm not." The booming voice sent shivers down her spine. "I am a spirit of Justice."

"Explain." Rosalyn lowered her blades, but signalled for Nathaniel to keep his bow ready. She listened with increasing dismay to the tale the spirit told her. It seemed the Baroness had been a blood mage after all, or worse. A possessed monster, trying to preserve her youthful beauty by feeding on the life force of pretty young girls. A parasite, sucking out the souls of innocent villagers to preserve her existence. Rosalyn shuddered with revulsion, and she felt a pang of remorse, remembering her reaction to Nathaniel's story the night before. Without hesitation, she agreed to help Justice in his fight against the sorceress.

When they finally faced her, the talking darkspawn was at her side, and Rosalyn cursed inwardly at the thought of the battle they would have to face. To her surprise, the Baroness smiled at her graciously, almost kindly.

"There's no need for us to fight, my sweet girl." Her voice was sickly sweet. "You understand me, don't you? You've got the bearing of an aristocrat yourself. You know that they are nothing, peasants, while I am a Baroness of Orlais!"

Rosalyn felt a sudden urge to throw up. "Is that what you think? You know nothing about true nobility, nothing at all. Get away from me, abomination!"

Justice gave an approving nod and the fight began. It was a fierce struggle against opponents they would never have faced, given a choice. But they prevailed and forced the Baroness out of the Fade, into the real world, only to have her turn into a demon. They couldn't have defeated her without Justice's help. Rosalyn had to fight back her revulsion when she realized he had taken possession of Kristoff's dead body to fight at their side, but she was grateful nevertheless.

When it was over, Rosalyn slumped to the marshy ground with a groan of pain. Anders was at her side immediately to take care of a nasty bruise on her ribs and she gratefully leaned into his touch.

"Anders. I'm sorry." She realized tears were forming in her eyes and she blinked them off, embarrassed.

"What for?" He looked at her in genuine surprise, and she shook her head. She couldn't explain, not yet.

The ingratiating whispers of the Baroness had shaken her to the core. _They are nothing. Peasants... You understand me. _Rosalyn flinched as she recalled her own earlier words._ Filthy lowlifes... didn't know their place._ Had she really said and meant that? Was she just as bad as the Orlesian witch? Anders had saved her life so many times, was always there to cheer her up with a smile and a joke. Had she really considered him worth less than her fellow nobles? She swallowed hard and let him hold her, listening to his soothing words as she cried in shame and relief.

"Commander?" Anders sounded deeply worried, but she shook her head.

"Call me Rose, Anders. We are friends, aren't we?"

* * *

_Many thanks to ShebasDawn for turning this into readable English. _


	9. On My Own

**Chapter 9 - On My Own**

Loghain woke up, sweat cooling on his forehead. It took him a moment to realize where he was, to recognize the vaulted ceiling of his room at the Warden compound in Montsimmard. Far more luxurious quarters than the ones he was used to, but he cared little for such comforts, especially on a night like this. Once again the images of the nightmare flashed across his vision. _Rose, torn from his side by a horde of darkspawn who dragged her away, obscene grins on their deformed faces._ He clenched his teeth, so hard his jaw hurt. _Was she in danger, right now? Would she be able to manage alone, without his help?_

Shaking off the dream, Loghain sighed impatiently. Of course Rose was able to deal with whatever happened in his absence. That had never been her problem. If she would only believe in herself, free herself from the assumption that she needed help, needed _him_, everything would be fine. But in many ways, she still seemed to be Bryce Cousland's little girl, even if someone else had taken the place of her beloved daddy now.

It was understandable, really. Bryce had been a doting father, caring and tender, always there for her, always ready to make everything better. Much more involved than he himself had ever been with Anora. _Anora... I shouldn't have left Celia alone with her quite so much. I should have..._ Loghain sighed and rose. No use trying to go back to sleep now. He was getting maudlin, and that would accomplish nothing. Better find something to do.

* * *

Rosalyn was fiddling impatiently with her quill, trying to concentrate on what Mistress Woolsey was telling her about the arldom's finances. After their return from the Blackmarsh, a hundred things had popped up for her to handle, and time was passing quickly. Already it was summer. It was hot and stuffy in her quarters, and she wished she could leave for Orlais straight away.

_Not yet. _Her correspondence with Gerod Caron, her counterpart in Montsimmard, was going well. He seemed charmed by her, and only too ready to be convinced by her arguments. She had already managed to wrangle an invitation out of him. Rosalyn's mouth set in a determined line. Once she was there she wouldn't leave without Loghain. There were still a number of things to do and people to talk to before she could set out on her journey, though.

It was so hard to be patient. She was dying to be with Loghain again. Every night she lay awake, tossing and turning, trying to find a cool place on her sheets, trying to ignore the different kind of heat pooling between her legs. If only he were here with her now, kissing her deeply, hungrily, dragging her over to the bed, whispering in her ear what he intended to do to her...

A loud knock on the door brought her back to the present. Seneschal Varel appeared on the doorstep, his face pale and worried.

"Commander. There's a messenger from Amaranthine. It seems..." He swallowed. "It seems the city is under attack by darkspawn."

Mistress Woolsey gasped in shock, and Rosalyn was on her feet in a flash. "The city? But-"

Catching herself, she reached for her armour. "I'll be down in a minute. See that he gets food and water, but have him ready to report to me as soon as I arrive."

The messenger had little more to add to his initial report and she cursed under her breath. She would need help with this, but there was no way she could leave the Keep unprotected.

"Nathaniel!" He was already there, looking at her expectantly. "You will stay here. Prepare for an assault, make sure our defences are as good as they can possibly be. I'm relying on you, Nate."

Without taking the time to wait for his answer, she turned to her other wardens. "Velanna, you can stay and help Nate. You too, Justice, you'll only frighten the townsfolk to death. Anders, Sigrun, Oghren, you're with me."

"Commander... Rose." Anders was pale. "Let me stay, please. This place is my home."

She shrugged. "All right. Velanna?"

The elven mage nodded, her eyes gleaming eagerly. "I'm at your side, Commander."

* * *

When they reached the outer wards of the city, Rosalyn felt her heart sink. She could sense the darkspawn, even see some of them crawl along the walls, making their way inside. Her chest tightened when she thought of all the people trapped in there, women, children, innocents. How could this have happened, without any warning, without any chance for her to prepare? And what could they do, four wardens against this crawling mass of bodies?

"They just keep coming, Commander. We're doing what we can, but it's hopeless."

She turned to face Constable Aidan of the City Watch. The seasoned warrior's normally serene face was a mask of despair and fear. She knew he was looking to her for help, just like she had helped him deal with smugglers and other undesirables before, but she could hardly speak past the hard knot forming in her throat. What could she tell him? What could they possibly hope to achieve?

Rosalyn opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Sigrun's voice rang out, tinged with fear and revulsion. "Commander? Look at this."

Swivelling around, she came face to face with a darkspawn emissary. Another talking one, she saw it in his face, even before he opened his mouth to deliver a message from the Architect. Rosalyn listened with increasing desperation. It seemed she would have to decide between saving the city and returning to save the Keep from the Mother's troops.

Everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to announce her decision. Rosalyn closed her eyes, feeling very young and helpless for a moment. If only Loghain was here with her! He would know what to do. He wouldn't be afraid to make a choice, to deal with its consequences. But he was far away, in Orlais, and she couldn't ask him, couldn't lean on his strength. Rosalyn bit back a sob, recalling Loghain's words to her before he had left.

He had made her promise she would be strong. Just like her father had, before he died. Her father... She couldn't disappoint him now, she had to live up to her family's expectations of her. It had never been so hard to be a Cousland, to take charge, when all she wanted was to run away and hide.

They had all left her. There was no one to help her, no one to make her decisions for her. What on Thedas was she supposed to do?

"Commander?" Sigrun's voice.

Rosalyn rubbed her eyes and looked at Aidan. "Your advice, constable?"

He returned her gaze, steady and calm, and for a moment she detected a hint of pity in his eyes. "I don't know. The city looks beyond saving to me. Better just to burn it to the ground than to leave it to those monsters, in my opinion. Then again, if there's even a small chance... But it's your decision." His voice was kind, but firm. "You're on your own, Commander. No one can tell you what to do."

Rosalyn nodded and straightened. He was right. This was her responsibility. _I'm on my own. I can do this._

"Set fire to the city. We're going back to Vigil's Keep." Her voice was clear and cool, no trembling betraying her inner turmoil.

"But Commander!" Sigrun looked shocked, while Velanna and Oghren just nodded, their faces sombre. "The people-"

"They are lost anyway. You've seen enough darkspawn attacks to know this." Rosalyn took a deep breath. "We have to save what we can. Come on."

* * *

Loghain stood stiffly, staring past Commander Caron's shoulders at the Warden insignia on the wall. "It was not my intention to hurt the boy, Commander. He was asking for it."

Michel had sprung him again, in the sparring grounds, a surprise attack with his daggers that could have killed Loghain if he hadn't knocked the young warden back as hard as he could. Now Michel was in the infirmary, still unconscious from the powerful blow that had sent him flying across the yard, crashing into a stone wall.

"I know." Caron sighed, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "His grandfather was taken prisoner at the River Dane, and the family never recovered from paying his ransom. He came home a broken man, full of hatred for everything Fereldan. Michel was his only grandson, all he had to brighten up his old age."

Loghain closed his eyes, feeling suddenly weary beyond measure. Caron was a good man, a hardened warrior about his own age, scrupulously fair, who made a point of treating him just like his other wardens. Loghain appreciated the difficulty of being in the Commander's position. Under different circumstances, they might have become friends.

Caron was the exception to the rule, though. All the others still treated him like a monster, gossiping about him behind his back, watching him with a mixture of hatred and fear. It was beginning to wear him down. The only person who ever smiled at him was a young kitchen maid by the name of Mallory, with long blond tresses and a sweet, round little face. Her mother had been Fereldan and she alone didn't hate him and what he stood for.

"You're dismissed, Warden." Caron sounded tired as well. "Michel will recover, and maybe in time he will learn. He is just a stupid boy. You and me, we both know you can't wage a war without casualties."

Loghain nodded and stepped outside. _Yes, I know. But I never realized how long it takes for the wounds to heal._ He leaned against the rough stone wall with a sigh. He missed Rosalyn, missed the Keep and his fellow wardens, their laughter and easy camaraderie. _How much longer?_

* * *

Rosalyn arrived at Vigil's Keep just in time for the attack, and she was relieved to find that Nathaniel had done everything that could possibly be done to be prepared. Archers were lined up along the battlements and more troops were camped in the outer ring. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker for having listened to Voldrik and his brother. The Keep's walls would keep them safe, and Dworkin's bombs would hopefully devastate the attacking forces.

Still, when the first wave of attackers hit them, the situation quickly turned into an all too familiar nightmare. Wave after wave of hurlocks, genlocks and childer hatchlings had to be beaten back. They held up, only just, but their losses were heavy. Rosalyn cried when Seneschal Varel went down, his chest smashed to pulp by an attacking ogre. She had come to love and respect the old man and would miss him sorely. But he had bought them enough time to regroup, and in the end they were victorious. The leader of the darkspawn, another talking emissary, died with a final shriek of fury that left Rosalyn oddly satisfied.

There was little time to rest afterwards, though. Rosalyn wanted nothing more than to hole up and lick her wounds, but she knew they had to take the battle to the Mother. Now, while the trail left by the retreating attackers was still fresh. There was no time to waste.

Rosalyn quickly assembled a small team of wardens. Anders would have been ideal, but she needed him to stay behind to heal the wounded. Sigrun and Oghren were both still exhausted from the forced march to the Keep and the ensuing battle. Velanna looked tired as well, but she refused to rest.

"If you follow them, I need to come, Commander. There may be a chance of finding Seranni."

Rosalyn nodded. "Of course, Velanna. We will need a mage anyway."

Nathaniel put an arm around the elf's slim shoulders. "I'll come along too, if I may, Commander. This is important."

"That leaves Justice. Are you ready for this, my friend?" Rosalyn glanced over at Justice who nodded briefly in agreement.

It was strange how quickly they had all become used to having a walking, talking corpse among them. It helped that the spirit was so curious about the mortal world, so eager to learn and understand. Of course it didn't hurt to have another strong arm on their side in a fight as well.

They would need all their strength in the upcoming adventure, Rosalyn realized. Facing the Mother, finally meeting the monster in her own lair, might well turn out to be more dangerous than anything she had ever done.

"Let's go." She flashed a smile at her companions. "Time to show that bitch what we're made of."

* * *

_Many thanks to ShebasDawn, who always comes up with such good ideas to make my writing better._


	10. Temptations

**Chapter 10 - Temptations**

Rosalyn would never get used to talking darkspawn. Even though the Architect was eloquent and convincing, calm and polite, some part of her kept shaking with revulsion at the sight of the creature. Utha was worse. Looking at the former warden who was showing clear signs of the Taint was an unpleasant reminder of what lay in store for herself in the not-too distant future.

"Is it not the way of the Grey Wardens to do what must be done, in the name of combating the Blight? The Blight is a menace, both for your people and for mine." The Architect inclined his strangely deformed head, as if he was listening for her answer.

_Maker, but the thing is persuasive!_ The thought that his plan could mean an end to all Blights was more than tempting. Not to mention the fact that he would be an ally in the fight against the Mother. Rosalyn looked at her companions. They all looked exhausted, even Justice. Fighting their way here had been anything but easy. Seemingly unending numbers of genlocks, childer grubs and hurlocks had thrown themselves at them, even before they encountered the High Dragon. The gargantuan beast would have killed Velanna if it hadn't been for Nathaniel's presence of mind.

Rosalyn was worried about the elven mage. Velanna was almost at the end of her strength, held upright only with the help of far too many lyrium potions. Her eyes had been feverish with a kind of desperate hope ever since they had encountered Seranni at the top of the path. More than anything, Rosalyn wanted to help her recover her sister.

Yet when the Architect finally admitted he would need Grey Warden blood to create more talking darkspawn, Rosalyn's mouth set in a firm line.

"No. I can't do that, no matter what you offer."

Ignoring Velanna's cry of protest, they attacked. It was a desperate fight, and it pained Rosalyn more than anything when she had to kill Utha, but they prevailed. They went on to face the Mother and through a combination of perseverance and blind luck, emerged victorious from this fight as well.

However, when they left the Mother's lair, exhausted and shaken, Velanna turned to face Rosalyn, her face hard and hostile.

"Commander. I have to ask you to release me from my oath of allegiance. There may still be a chance of finding my sister, in spite of what you did in there." She didn't wait for an answer, just smiled at Nathaniel, a little wistfully. "Goodbye, Nate. I'm sorry."

Then she was gone.

* * *

Loghain frowned when he read Rosalyn's letter. Amaranthine lost, the Keep attacked by darkspawn. And here he was, too far away to be of help, useless, impotent. Still, he was proud of her for making those decisions. It couldn't have been easy. Then a sentence near the end of the page caught his eye.

_There are reports that Morrigan was sighted near Flemeth's hut. I'll find out if there's any truth to this as soon as I can._

Morrigan. Loghain's frown deepened. He remembered the night of the ritual all too clearly. He had told the witch he would have to close his eyes and think of his dead wife, but it had been a lie. It hadn't been Celia's face he had seen in his mind, much as he had loved and respected her. No, when he had sunk deep into Morrigan's willing flesh, it had been Rosalyn he pictured in her place, her firm young body wrapped about his, her blue eyes hazy with arousal. He had felt dirty and lecherous afterwards, an old man lusting after a girl he'd known since she was in swaddling clothes. But he had burned for her ever after, only for her.

With a deep sigh, he pocketed the letter and walked toward the stairs, off to face another cold and lonely night. Turning the corner, he nearly ran into Mallory, the pretty kitchen maid. She smiled, her small breasts heaving in the deep cleavage of her low-cut, Orlesian-style dress. Bobbing him a curtsey, she glanced up at him from under her long lashes.

"Anything else you need, Ser Loghain? All you have to do is ask."

Her meaning was more than obvious, and for a fleeting instant he was tempted to take her up on her offer. It would be so easy to pretend she was who he really craved, to lose himself in blond hair and soft limbs for just one night, to find the release he needed so badly.

But he shook his head, his face firm and resolved. "Nothing, thank you, Mallory. Good night."

* * *

It was strange to be back at the Keep after all the horrors they had been through. Strange to realize their foes had been soundly beaten, finally leaving them a little breathing space, a chance to regroup and recover, to rebuild the Warden presence in Ferelden without constant interference from the darkspawn. They needed the break, too, battered and bruised as they were.

The summer was drawing to an end when another letter from Loghain arrived. Rosalyn grabbed it and retreated to her room, eager for news from him, hungry for assurances of love and devotion. She should have known better. The letter was brief and terse, just a note really, telling her he was faring well. He missed her, yes, but he sounded resigned, almost philosophical about it.

_Don't fret, Rose, and don't worry about me. Soon we'll be together again, and until then, I can stand it if you can. Missing someone gets easier every day. It may be one day farther from the last time we saw each other, but it is one day closer to the next time we will._

Putting down the letter, she harrumphed in frustration. _Blight it, Loghain, why do you have to be so calm and serene about everything?_ Just once she'd like him to admit he needed her, wanted her, just as badly as she needed and wanted him. Being stoical about it was all well and good, but she craved an assurance that he felt like she did. She shook her head. It probably wasn't in his nature to admit to it, even if it was true.

Suddenly her room seemed stuffy and crowded. A glance at the windows told her it was already late. How long had she been sitting here, thinking of him, raging at his cool composure? She needed company, someone to take her mind off this.

When she got down to the throne room, it looked deserted. She had already turned around to go, when she heard the clinking of glass and realized Nathaniel was sitting at one of the tables, in the dim light of the dying fire, drinking alone. He had become quiet and withdrawn after Velanna had left, obviously hurting but unwilling to talk about it.

"Nate. I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude-"

"You're not intruding." Rosalyn flinched at the bitterness in his voice. "I'm lonely, Commander. Lonely and unhappy. Why don't you join me for a drink? You don't look so chipper yourself."

She gratefully accepted the proffered goblet and sat down at his side. "I'm sorry about Velanna, Nate. But I don't think you should give up hope just yet. Maybe she'll be back."

Nathaniel shook his head. "She won't. Her sister is far more important to her than I ever was." He closed his eyes, and the pain was clearly visible on his dark, handsome face. "You know, for a while I was fool enough to believe she loved me. We were happy together, or so I thought. But-"

He broke off and reached for his goblet again. "What about you, Commander? Tired of being on your own? Do you miss the old man so much?"

"Oh, Maker's mercy, call me Rose, Nate." She filled her own goblet and took a deep sip, trying to collect her thoughts before she answered.

There had been a curious edge to Nathaniel's voice, and she wondered whether it was wise to share her feelings with him. But she needed someone to talk to, and she knew she could rely on his honour and discretion.

"Yes, I miss him. Every day and..." She blushed briefly. "Every night. It's so hard to have no one to carry the burden with me." She swallowed. "Nate, I feel so alone."

"You're doing fine without him. And you're not alone." Leaning over to her, he refilled her goblet, his hand brushing against hers. "Never, Rose. None of us would ever desert you. Well, except for Velanna, I guess."

The bitterness was back, and Rosalyn reached out impulsively for him, grabbing his wrist. "Nate. Don't."

He caught her gaze, his expression unreadable. "You're right. No use thinking about it, is there?"

"No." She sighed, but then her face softened. "No use crying over spilled milk, my nan would have said."

"Mine too." A boyish grin crossed his features for an instant, and they shared a look and a smile. "Happier times back then, eh, Rose?"

"Much happier," she agreed. "Remember when Tom and Fergus went off to the Chantry to become templars?"

"How could I forget?" His smile was genuinely warm now.

For a few hours they traded stories, reminiscing about their childhood. Nathaniel had always avoided talking of the past before, no doubt mindful of the horrors at Highever and his father's role in them. The drink made him more relaxed, she found, and more friendly. Once or twice he even laughed out loud.

They were well into their second bottle of wine before she noticed how late it had become. "Time to sleep, I guess. Thank you so much, Nate."

"Thank you." He had become serious again, but he looked better too, less pinched, less desperate. "Good night, Rose."

She got up to leave, but she must have had more to drink than she realized. She swayed on her feet, and was grateful when he caught her around the waist, holding her upright with ease. _He has such strong arms and broad shoulders. Just like Loghain._

"Careful. Let me help you." There were fine lines of amusement around his clear grey eyes.

Slowly they made their way up to her suite. It was nice, Rosalyn mused as she clung to Nathaniel, nice to be held like this, nice to have someone to take care of her. He felt good, too, lean and taut. His hair was brushing against her cheek and she breathed in his scent, of leather and red wine. Rosalyn shivered.

Then they were at her door and he carefully propped her up against the wall, while he reached for the handle.

"Nate..." Rosalyn knew she wasn't thinking clearly.

Her brain was pleasantly addled, and she was so very tired of doing the right thing. She had tried so hard to be as strong as Loghain wanted her to be, but she was exhausted and lonely.

Almost of their own accord, her arms slid around his neck and her body melted against his. "Don't go, Nate."

Her lips brushed against his, soft and sweet, and he tensed, his whole body responding to her proximity.

"Rose..." He sounded so hoarse, so passionate that she instinctively closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace, waiting for his kiss.

But it never came. Instead, he stepped back and gently removed her hands from his shoulders. "No, Rose. Not like this. Let's not do anything we will regret in the morning."

She moaned impatiently, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "Why not? Don't you want me?"

His grip tightened around her wrists, and his breathing quickened. "You have no idea how much I-" He broke off. "But I'm not over Velanna, and besides, you don't want me, Rose. You want Loghain." Ignoring her protests he went on. "Yes, you do. You want him and you love him. And that's why you will now go into your room and go to sleep and dream of him."

There was a faint smile on his lips as he turned her around and gently but firmly slapped her backside, shoving her into her room. "Good night, Rose. Sleep it off."

Then he was gone, and the door fell shut. Rosalyn leant back against the heavy oaken wood with a deep sigh. Of course he was right. She was lucky he was so honourable, so decent. But right at this moment, she hated him for it.

* * *

_Many thanks to ShebasDawn for all her help with this._


	11. Waiting for Spring

**Chapter 11 - Waiting for Spring**

Rosalyn pushed aside the papers littering her desk with an impatient grimace. In many ways, things had been easier during the Blight, despite the threat of the Archdemon hanging over their heads.

Being the Warden Commander wasn't too bad, but if she was honest, she hated being Arlessa of Amaranthine. Administrative details bored her, and she had to get far more involved in the day-to-day governing of the arldom than before. Seneschal Varel's death had left a huge gap that wouldn't be easy to fill. Mistress Woolsey and Captain Garevel did their best, but none of them knew Vigil's Keep and its inhabitants as well as he had.

Rosalyn was glad to have Nathaniel at her side to advise and support her. He had never mentioned her behaviour that night, and when she had tried to talk to him, he had just shrugged and smiled.

"You were a little tipsy, Rose, and more than just a little lonely. Don't worry. I've already forgotten about it."

They had become good friends, working and sparring together during the day and sharing drinks and stories in the evenings. He enjoyed the added responsibility of being her new second-in-command. If he was still mourning Velanna's departure, he didn't let it interfere with his duties. When she saw him slip out of Sigrun's room one morning, Rosalyn smiled to herself. Even if it was nothing serious, this would do them both good. A Warden's life was never easy. Better to take your pleasures where you could find them.

* * *

Month after month passed and she was so caught up in the task of rebuilding the Keep, keeping track of the political intrigues surrounding her, and addressing all the little problems brought to her attention, that she hardly had time to think of Loghain, much less to prepare for her voyage.

To crown it all, winter came unusually early and Rosalyn had to face the fact that travelling to Orlais before the next spring would be out of the question. She raged and fumed, but the storms had already set in, making the Waking Sea impassable. The overland route was more dangerous at the best of times, and crossing the foothills of the Frostback Mountains and the wasteland of the Dales at this time of the year was a risk even she wasn't willing to take.

The road to Denerim was still open, though, and Rosalyn took advantage of this for a visit to the capital. If her plans were to have any chance of success, she needed to talk to Queen Anora. She needed to meet her in person, to explain and ask for her cooperation.

Rosalyn spent a long afternoon at the palace, persuading, wheedling, negotiating. It was exhausting, but in the end she left with a smile. Apparently she had found the right arguments, and the Queen would help in any way she could.

The evening after the audience, Rosalyn grabbed a quick snack and retired to her room as early as she could. She was ready to go to bed when she heard a tiny noise from one of the curtains. Her daggers were within easy reach and a lightning-fast move brought her close to the intruder, but then she heard a familiar chuckle.

"Ah, _carissima_, there's no sneaking up on you. You truly are a queen among rogues."

"Zevran!" Rosalyn was surprised at the sudden rush of happiness she felt at the sight of the Antivan assassin. Smiling broadly, she extended both hands toward him. "Why the secrecy?"

"Ah, my Warden, I have my reasons, never doubt it."

His glance travelled appreciatively over her body, barely hid by her thin nightgown. Rosalyn blushed. Back during the Blight Year, she had rebuffed his advances without further thought, deeming him too far beneath her notice to be tempted. He hadn't seemed to mind, and he hadn't bothered her further when she had made it clear she wasn't interested.

Now, however, she realized with a pang just how attractive he was. The candlelight made him look even more luscious than usual. It made the lines of his tattoos come alive against golden skin, made his eyes gleam with a hidden fire. She swallowed and for the first time allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to give in to him, to let herself be seduced by a master in the art of love.

He grinned, and Rosalyn's blush deepened even further. It was obvious he had read every single one of her thoughts.

"Don't worry, my dear. Delectable as you look, I know better than to interfere with the interests of the mighty Loghain Mac Tir."

_Blight it, is there anything he doesn't know? _Rosalyn reached for a wrap. Covered up, she immediately felt more confident and assured.

Zevran had grown serious. "No, my dear, I'm not drawn by your charms, though they are considerable indeed. I've come to talk about something far more worrying."

Rosalyn sat down at the fireplace, motioning for him to join her. "What is it?"

Zevran leaned back and graciously accepted the goblet of wine she offered him. "You know that I have settled here in Denerim for the time being, yes? Queen Anora has been very generous toward me, in exchange for a little professional help in dealing with her enemies. She really is a most enlightened monarch."

Ignoring Rosalyn's amused snort, he went on. "A few weeks ago, my spies informed me that a former acquaintance of mine had arrived in the city, an Antivan Crow, one of the best in fact. So naturally I called on him, if only to make sure he wasn't after me." Zevran spread his arms wide in an expansive gesture. "Imagine my surprise, when it turned out he was on his way to kill you, my lovely Warden."

"Kill me?" Rosalyn frowned. "What did you do?"

Zevran shrugged. "I tried to dissuade him, of course, but you know what Crows are like. He insisted there was no way he would break his contract." He grinned. "So I arranged for a more permanent solution. I'm afraid he's sleeping with the fish in the harbour now."

Rosalyn bit her lip. "Zev, I-"

"No need to thank me." Another dazzling smile. "You know I'm your man, without reservations. I thought you'd be interested in who commissioned him, though, and fortunately he had a copy of the contract on him, no doubt in order to collect his bounty after your untimely death."

Reaching into his pocket, he handed her a sheet of parchment. Rosalyn quickly unrolled it and bit back a curse when she saw the name at the bottom.

"Lady Liza Packton. I should have killed her when I had the chance." She was more than tired of the constant intrigues and schemes she had to grapple with.

"You are familiar with the name?" Zevran looked at her, a questioning curve to his expressive eyebrows.

Rosalyn nodded. "She was part of Bann Esmerelle's conspiracy against me a while ago. I pardoned her, because she had young children and she swore to me on her mother's grave she'd be loyal in the future." She laughed mirthlessly. "You'd think a noblewoman's oath would be worth more than this. Nate warned me she couldn't be trusted. I guess he was right."

Zevran was unperturbed. "I trust you will be able to deal with her?"

"Yes." Rosalyn's face was determined. "I'm in your debt, Zev. Again." She smiled at him. "Will you join me for dinner tomorrow night? Come in through the front door this time?"

He laughed. "Ah, but my dear, I'm sure your other guests won't approve if you invite a common assassin to a noble gathering."

"I don't care." Rosalyn looked at him, her face intent and serious. "You are one of my most loyal friends, Zevran. If they can't deal with having you there, they are free to leave."

"Then I'll be there." He rose, taking her hand in his and breathing a soft kiss on her wrist, making her shiver. Catching her gaze, he smiled, not his usual professional smile, but a rare, genuine one. "You have changed, _carissima_, since I last met you, and for the better. It's always been an honour to serve you. From now on, it will be my pleasure as well."

He disappeared soundlessly before she could gather her wits sufficiently to answer.

* * *

Loghain smiled absent-mindedly at Mallory as she served him his breakfast. As usual, he was alone at his table, even though the large dining room was fairly crowded, even at this hour. It had been a long, lonely winter for him, though he was of an age to appreciate the milder climate of Orlais by now. Still, it had been painful when First Day had come around and his thoughts had gone back to the year before, to snow and candlelight at the Vigil, the company of friends and Rosalyn's happy laughter.

He was deep in thought and didn't notice the turn the conversation had taken at the neighbouring table until Guillaume, one of the senior wardens, shouted his name.

"Eh, Loghain. We were wondering... you told Michel your pretty commander vanquished the Archdemon. But the only one who died that afternoon was Riordan. Couldn't do it without Orlesian help after all, it seems."

Loghain's hands clenched into fists. Looking down on his whitening knuckles, he fought the urge to set the record straight. _It's not worth it. Let them assume it was Riordan. _

Fortunately Gerod Caron's deep, booming voice rang out from the door at this moment. "Enough! This is not a topic for idle gossip." The conversation immediately stopped and Loghain took a deep breath.

He hadn't missed the flash of interest on Gerod's face, though, and sure enough he was called up to the Commander's office later that day.

"Loghain. I apologize for my wardens' behaviour at breakfast. It was unacceptable." Gerod's face was stern. "Yet... Guillaume's words made me wonder, so I talked to a few of my contacts. They all agree it was Commander Cousland who struck the killing blow. So why is she still alive, Loghain?"

Loghain kept his expression carefully bland. "Who can say who really killed the beast, Commander? In the heat of the fight, it's hard to tell those things. The people wanted a hero, and the Commander led us into battle. So naturally everyone would assume it was her."

Gerod frowned. "Still, according to what I heard Riordan was dead before the final battle."

Loghain shrugged, his face stony. Gerod looked at him expectantly, but when it became clear no further information would be forthcoming, he dismissed him with a weary sigh.

On the way back to his room, Loghain couldn't quite suppress a snort. Of course Gerod wondered. But he could never be told the truth. Morrigan's ritual must remain their secret; no one but him and Rosalyn could ever know. Not that he had ever wanted to be part of it. If it had been up to him, he would have preferred to sacrifice himself by killing the Archdemon.

He'd been convinced his life was over, and he had told her so, almost begged her to let him die. "Please, I've done so much wrong. Allow me to do one last thing right."

But Rosalyn had been adamant. "I won't let you take the easy way out. You'll help me rebuild. I need you, Ferelden needs you."

Turning away from him, she had sighed. "It's just... I'd like to understand why, Loghain. The things you did during the Blight, they don't add up to the man I knew before."

He hadn't been able to explain it properly then, and he couldn't explain it now, this strange darkness that had descended upon him after Ostagar, after he had let Cailan die. It had been the correct decision in terms of strategy. It had been exactly what he had promised Maric, many years ago, putting the welfare of the kingdom over the life of one man. It had, ultimately, been the right thing to do for Ferelden. Cailan had been a weak king, living in a fantasy world, about to hand them all over to Orlais on a silver platter.

Yet, the moment Cailan was dead, the moment Rowan's son was gone, something had broken inside him. Everything he had once valued had become pointless, meaningless. Howe's ruthless ambition, his intrigues and insinuations had seemed petty and unimportant compared to the one thing he lived for, the one thing only he could do. Save Ferelden again, by any means necessary.

His inner turmoil had blinded him to the cold, hard facts before him, and he had gone along with so many things he should have put a stop to. And then Rosalyn had come along and had taken the burden off his shoulders. She had shown him what he'd done, and she had forgiven it all. She had given him a second chance he didn't deserve, a new life born from the ruins of the old one.

Turning a corner into the compound's garden Loghain stopped in his tracks. There, right before him, a tiny blossom shyly peeked out of the dark earth.

The first spring flower.

* * *

_Hugs and thanks to ShebasDawn who once again set me on the right track with a critical question ;-)_


	12. On the Road Again

**Chapter 12 - On the Road Again**

He heard her laugh before he saw her. Most of the Orlesian wardens had assembled in the courtyard to greet the Fereldan Warden Commander and her entourage, but when Loghain stepped out in the open, Rosalyn ignored them all and flew into his arms. For once he didn't care who was watching them as he kissed her passionately, pressing her so hard to his armoured chest it had to hurt her. When he let go, her face was radiant with happiness, her bright blue eyes suspiciously moist for an instant.

But then she pushed him gently back and turned to greet Gerod Caron, who had donned his finest ceremonial armour for the occasion.

"Rosalyn! My fellow Commander." Gerod bowed deeply over her hand, flashing her a charming smile. "You are even more lovely than I imagined."

Rosalyn blushed prettily. "Vous êtes trop gentil, Gerod." Her accent was just perceptible enough to be cute, and Gerod melted visibly.

"Ah, ma petite. You speak our language so well." He took her arm and led her up the stairs to his suite, somehow managing to look fatherly and dashing at the same time.

"Now you are flattering me." Rosalyn tossed her head back with another dazzling smile as the two of them disappeared from view.

Loghain ground his teeth. The Orlesian brand of flirtatiousness still grated on him, and he was surprised at how gracefully Rosalyn submitted to it. He knew she was doing this for his sake, but even so, his hands tightened into fists. If the old rake dared touch her, he would-

Fortunately, Sigrun chose this moment to greet him, a cheerful smile on her lips. "Loghain. Care to show me where I can get a drink around here?"

* * *

It was late at night when Rosalyn finally slipped into his room, a bright smile on her face, clad in a flimsy silken nightdress under her flowing cape.

"Look at this." She smiled at him, twirling so he could admire her. "I found it on my bed. I feel very Orlesian wearing this."

He growled at her words and caught her in mid-twirl, pulling her hard against his chest. "I think I'd prefer you without it."

But even he had to admit that her body felt amazing through the thin layer of silk, firm and taut and slithery against his palms. Rosalyn moaned at his touch, all pretence of teasing lost as soon as he kissed her, her whole body shaking with desire. He couldn't wait either, couldn't fight the urgent need that made him tear the delicate fabric from her breasts and shove her down on his bed, his mouth hot and greedy on her skin.

"Loghain." She had taken hold of his head, pushing him deeper, where she wanted him, just as eager and impatient as he was. "I can't wait, love. Please don't torment me. Not tonight."

He glanced up at her, his eyes dark and cloudy with arousal. "I won't. I couldn't even if I wanted."

Just a few gentle licks, and she was more than ready for him, wrapping her legs around his hips, trying to draw him closer. He unlaced his pants, not even bothering to undress fully. All of that could wait. Now he needed her, and there could be no delay, no more waiting, no more teasing. With a rough groan, he buried himself inside her to the hilt, revelling in her small, helpless whimper. Only when he was completely surrounded by her did he stop, forcing himself to keep still, pressing his forehead against hers, holding her gaze.

"Rose. I've missed you so much." His voice was strangled with emotion, feverish with desire. So many nights he had dreamed about this reunion, imagined what he would do once he held her in his arms again, pictured her lovely face in the throes of passion.

She dug her heels into his back, trying to push him even deeper, desperate to be as close to him as she possibly could, and was rewarded with a low, hot growl, from deep inside his chest. He kissed her, hard and demanding, before he pushed himself up on his arms, high up so he could move freely and watch her come apart. Then he began to thrust, with slow and controlled movements at first, but soon he was struggling to keep control, overwhelmed by her scent, her skin, her soft sighs. His eyes were fixed on her face, drinking in her expression, making sure she was there with him, but he needn't have bothered. The feel of his hard length inside her, his long, lean body hot against hers, made her come undone faster than she would have believed possible. Soon she was stretched as taut as a bowstring, begging hoarsely for _just a little more, a tiny bit, almost there_... One more thrust, and her world exploded and she was screaming in his arms, literally screaming, her head falling back, exposing the long, graceful curve of her neck. He followed her immediately, unable to hold back in the face of her beautiful, total abandonment.

It took a while for them to recover, and when they did, they both laughed, a little embarrassed at the disorderly state they were in, he still mostly dressed, she in her torn _negligée_, both of them tousled and sweaty. They cleaned up and got rid of the clothes before settling on the bed, under a soft blanket, sharing a glass of wine. They talked for long hours, interrupted only by a second bout of lovemaking, more quiet and restrained this time, sweet and leisurely.

Loghain listened attentively as she described what had happened in his absence. She didn't say much about herself, but he knew enough to be able to fill in the gaps. By the time she was finished, he felt his heart swell with pride and admiration for her. This was no longer the helpless girl he had left behind. She had done what needed to be done, without flinching, without crying for help.

"I'm so proud of you, Rose. You have become a true commander while I was away."

She smiled, genuinely flattered by his words. "Thank you, love. But as soon as we are back in Ferelden, I'll resign."

Ignoring his disbelieving snort, she went on, motioning for him to listen. "You've shown me what I can do, Loghain, and I'm eternally grateful to you for it. But that doesn't change the fact that I don't want to do it. I'm no longer interested in being an arlessa, now that I know what it entails. So I made a deal with your daughter."

Anora had been less than eager to help at first, but she had become amazingly cooperative when she heard of Rosalyn's wish to resign. The Queen had always been unhappy having the two Cousland siblings in such powerful positions in the North, as Teyrn of Highever and Arlessa of Amaranthine. Both the arldom and the post of Warden Commander would be taken over by Nathaniel.

"It's Nate's birthright, Loghain, you know that as well as I do. He loves the place; it's in his blood. He'll do everything in his power to clear the Howe name from the shame his father brought upon it. He will make a splendid Warden Commander."

"And what about us?" Loghain pulled her closer.

"We will go on a special mission for the Queen." She looked up at him, an excited glow on her face. "There are still darkspawn nests in the Korcari Wilds that need cleaning up, possibly led by more talking emissaries like the Architect. They are terrorizing the farmers and merchants down there, and making it harder for the country to recover from the Blight."

"The Korcari Wilds." Loghain looked thoughtful. _Flemeth. I have a few things I'd like to take up with the old hag. And then there's Morrigan. We never found out where she disappeared to. _"Yes, I would like to go there. But what about the First Warden?"

Rosalyn smiled. "Anora has written to him and made it clear she expects his cooperation if he wants to avoid a diplomatic incident. And Gerod has sent a message as well, practically begging to be relieved of your presence." She giggled. "He was really only too happy to help. I bet the last months were a strain on his nerves too. Anyway, Anora has specifically requested the two of us for this mission, and we will report directly to her, no one else. There's a bunch of new wardens at the Keep, so Anders and Justice have asked to come with us, and maybe we can find more recruits along the way."

Loghain chuckled. "You're incredible."

"You will come with me, won't you?" She looked at him, worry in her eyes. "You won't tell me that I have a duty to stay at my post?"

He shook his head. "No. I won't. It's your decision and I'll gladly join you. But Rose, before we leave, there's one thing I must ask you."

During the long lonely nights at Montsimmard, his thoughts had wandered to unfamiliar places. He'd remembered the stories she'd told him, about Teagan, about Thomas Howe, about her parents, and he had realized how much it had cost her to bury her childhood dreams. So much had been taken from her when she became a Warden. There was nothing he could do to change the past, but it was within his power to do one thing for her.

She was looking at him, a question in her eyes, and he took a deep breath. "Will you marry me, Rose?"

"Will I what? Marry you?" Rosalyn stared at Loghain, her face incredulous. "But why...?"

She didn't understand. They had never so much as mentioned marriage. And why would they? With both of them Wardens, what reason could there be for such a ceremony? They would never have children, there were no titles or possessions to consider, and they would both be lucky to live another fifteen years.

But then she met his eyes and she realized what he was telling her. There was such a depth of expression in his gaze: love, genuine sympathy, understanding, and she couldn't fight back the tears coming to her eyes.

"Oh, Loghain." Her fingers softly travelled along his cheek. "You want to make the old hurt go away, don't you?"

For once, he didn't flinch away, but held her gaze. "Rose. You've lost so much. Let me give you what I can."

She swallowed hard. "I... Loghain, I'm no longer the girl I once was. My dreams of a grand marriage, of children, of hunting parties and balls, those dreams are dead and gone, lost that night at Highever, together with my family. And nothing we can do-"

"I know." He cut her off, taking hold of her wrist, turning her hand so he could kiss her palm. "I know there's nothing we can do to take away the Taint or to bring back those we've lost. But we can still..." He didn't have the words, but his clear blue eyes were looking at her with an intensity that made her shiver. "Please, Rose. It would mean the world to me."

"Of course I'll marry you." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his kiss. When he let her go, a grin spread over her face and she began to chuckle, silently at first. Then her eyes flew open and she burst into a full-blown bout of laughter. "Just imagine... Oh, Loghain, just imagine what Anora will say."

He grunted, but her hilarity was contagious, and she was right. The vivid image of his daughter's sour disapproval was enough to make him smile as well. Anora was such a stickler for propriety. The idea of having Rosalyn as her stepmother would no doubt bring out her most icy side. He could practically hear her in his mind. _There's no fool like an old fool, they say. _

"Anora may be my daughter and my Queen, but she doesn't get to tell me what to do with my life, or what's left of it."

"And neither will the First Warden." Her expression had become determined again. "Let's get on the road again, Loghain. I'm not afraid of the darkspawn. Not as long as you're with me."

"I'm yours, Rose." He took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Always."

*** The end ***

* * *

_Hugs and thanks to the amazing ShebasDawn who is so incredibly diplomatic, yet always manages to put her finger on the sore spots in my plot. Thanks to her this story turned out a lot better than it otherwise would have._


End file.
